Sister of Blood
by starryskyondragon'sback
Summary: Tasha Amell would have done nearly anything to get out of the Circle, except what actually happened. Joined by a grumpy Dalish elf and a sort of ex-Templar, she is thrown into two separate wars and expected to fix things. But if she thinks dealing with her gifts was hard in the Circle, it's her own personal struggle to keep from losing herself and her ideals that proves hardest.
1. It Was Certainly Harrowing

1\. It Was Certainly...Harrowing

The black haired mage jolted awake, eyes wide, magic flared so strongly it was impressive it didn't start snowing. The hand on her shoulder jerked away as the reflexive sparks scattered over it. Every muscle tensed, she waited for the threat to return. When none came, she blinked slowly acquainting herself with the room. Safe. She was safe. She wasn't in the Fade. She was awake and safe. She kept repeating that to herself until her heart slowed.

Finally, her eyes focused on Jowan who was cradling his hand against his chest. She could see the red marks from the small burst of electricity she'd sent as a defensive warning to keep away. Then she could feel his hurt and his wariness. She grimaced. "Sorry."

"What was that about?" he asked.

"I thought," the hesitation was clear in her voice and then she shook her head. "Never mind."

"We don't lie to each other, Tasha. We never have. What?"

The muscle in her jaw tightened. "I thought I was back in my Harrowing."

He waited just long enough to not look incredibly eager before saying, "What was it like? What happened?"

"I can't tell you."

 _Betrayal._ "No lying."

"I'm not lying. You know I can't tell you."

"Please, Tasha?"

She stared at him and the hopeful look in his eyes, an expression that was warring with the sense of betrayal radiating from him, and then softened a little. "Hardest thing I've ever done. And no, I'm not going into specifics. Irving would have my hide. I've just been made a full mage. I can't go about breaking the rules as soon as I wake up."

"Even harder than-"

She interrupted him, eyes flicking to a pair of apprentices who were clearly eavesdropping and doing a poor job of disguising it. "Yes, even harder than that. Jowan, can you please just drop it?"

"Alright." He came and sat on her bed, throwing an arm around her to give her a hug. Only a couple of sparks fell onto the coverlet. "You're a full mage of the Circle now. How do you feel?"

She groaned, flopping against him. "Like someone slammed a boulder into me. All I want to do is sleep for the next three days. Or possibly just eat. And my mana is totally drained."

"Really? It didn't feel like it."

Giggling, she elbowed him. "Just wait until you take your Harrowing. I'll be there to wake you up after. See how you like it then," she threatened lightly. _Fear. Worry._ She straightened up, turning towards him. She tucked her feet underneath her. A frown curled her lips down as she realized that something was different about him, a barrier that she had never noticed. "What?"

"What if I don't take my Harrowing?"

She blinked at him. "Of course you will. What brought this on?"

"I've been here longer than you have. I'm older than you. My Harrowing should have happened moons ago." Jowan's warm brown eyes were dark with the worry that was eating at him like acid.

"Look, they probably just wanted to get me to full status before you since you were the only one that could handle me when I wasn't at my best. Well, other than the other somewhat undesirable people I associate with." She dropped her voice in a poor imitation of Greagoir, trying to make Jowan laugh. "'Rebels and madmen! You're never leaving the tower! None of you!'"

Instead of helping, the hurt built until it sparked. "So everything's about you?" He jumped to his feet and she didn't even have time to support her own weight before she fell over.

"Jowan, that wasn't what I meant." She rose to her feet.

"Whatever. I'll talk to you later." With that he stalked off, emotions a seething, dark mass under the surface. Tasha watched him leave, brow pursed with confusion.

She didn't have time to dwell on what was going on with him before she was swamped with apprentices. Most of the younger ones she'd comforted when they'd come to the tower simply because she couldn't stand their misery. Their excitement that she'd passed cleared away any residual darkness left over from Jowan. And as a result, a sort of impromptu party started in the apprentice quarters, much to her dismay. Every apprentice that survived the Harrowing became a celebrity for a short while. She could block it off, but not when the emotion was too strong or when there were too many people feeling the same thing.

So, Tasha Amell, newest mage in the Fereldan Circle, faded into the background of an unexpected party that was specifically held in her honor. Honestly, apprentices needed very little to have a reason to celebrate. Thus when it came time for one, they made the most of it and she ran in the other direction.

Tasha quietly slipped out, trying to block out the high running emotions. She walked down the hall, not paying much attention to anything. _Quiet pleasure._ She lifted her head, startled, when a gauntleted hand gently grasped her arm and pulled her into a dark corner. Sparks jolted across the metal.

"Tasha," Cullen murmured, tawny eyes warm. She rested a delicate hand on his plate covered chest and looked up at him.

"No stutter today?" she asked, gently teasing. "My, what's the occasion?"

"Your Harrowing." Tasha lightly drummed her fingers, hating the fact that she heard metal and didn't feel the person underneath the specifically crafted armor. "Quickest, cleanest one I've ever seen." _Fear. Reluctance. Duty._ Her eyebrows pinched together and she looked up at him, a question in her eyes. "They-they picked m-m-me to be the one to…" he trailed off, the stutter returning as his emotions flared more strongly.

"To kill me if I became an abomination," she finished for him quietly.

"It wouldn't have b-been personal," he desperately wanted her to understand. She smiled to let him know that it was all right, and told him so. He was a Templar and she wouldn't have asked him to go against his beliefs, even if she didn't exactly share them. "I shouldn't be getting this close. A Templar must remain distant, to do what needs to be done."

"So what is this then?" she asked, tipping her head to the side.

"A congratulations." She caught his intention on his emotions just before he swiftly leaned down to press a kiss against her lips. She wanted nothing more than to throw her arms around his neck and screw the consequences but she forced her body to remain still. The kiss was only a few heartbeats long before Cullen pulled away, a ribbon of guilt running through him. "I need to go."

"Where are you stationed today?"

He tipped his head back and she was distracted for a moment by the clean line of his jaw. "Upstairs, outside the enchanter's library."

"Which I now have access to." Tasha grinned cheekily, grey eyes sparkling. _Reluctance_. She frowned, stepping away from him. "What?"

"I should g-go." Before she could react, he was moving away. She held back a huff, frustrated and confused. But she waited for a few moments to minimize the risk of them being actually seen together.

When she stepped from cover, nearly paralyzing fear and nearly as powerful pain dropped her to her knees. Panting, she shoved it off enough to get herself to her feet and then went on autopilot, allowing her feet to carry her to the source of the pain. Up the stairs she went, and the closer she got, the harder it was to separate who she was from the emotional maelstrom.

It was tucked away in one of the rooms in a dark corner that she found her. Rebecca Cates looked up at her approach, tear-streaked face betraying what was happening inside. Tasha hadn't seen her since her Harrowing and she'd been one of the few to know she was pregnant then, yet another lovely side effect to her magic.

Now, however, she looked haggard and huge, staring with terrified eyes that leaked tears. Tasha knelt beside the other mage and carefully placed a hand on her knee.

"I don't want them to take my baby," Rebecca whispered, barely able to force the words out.

Tasha closed her eyes, all at once feeling hot rage slither down her back. It was so different from the anger she normally felt that she knew immediately where it came from. Her mind went back to her Harrowing and she shivered. When her eyes focused back on Rebecca, another lance of pain went through her and she bit her lip hard enough draw blood to keep from screaming. That she could heal and she let her magic gently wash over her, dulling the pain of labor as well as heal her lip.

It was at that moment that Tasha knew what she was planning and the laboring woman broke her heart. Her eyes went to the door. Ice gathered around the mage as her anger, sharp and cold, flared. She turned back to Rebecca. "Don't make a sound," she muttered. "I'll be back shortly."

Before she left, she carefully placed wards around the door and wove her magic into the magic contained in the tower after centuries of mages living there to disguise the fact that she was putting her shield up. Fortunately, all around her, mages were also using their magic which helped mute everything.

As soon she was finished, she took off, looking for the one person she knew could help. She tracked him by his worry and she found him in the enchanter's library, restlessly pacing in front of a stack of books. "Andrew," she called quietly. His attention swiveled to her, brown eyes even darker than usual from his stress. She didn't say another word, just went back to Rebecca's room, expecting him to follow her and he did. She dropped the wards as she approached and he shoved past me into the room. She would have smiled at how obvious his concern for her was under normal circumstances but at the moment it was all she could do to contain her fury. They couldn't marry and neither had planned for this baby but she knew watching Andrew drop to his knees before the mother of his child and gently smooth the sweaty hair away from her forehead that they both desperately wanted to be parents. Yet they couldn't because of the Chantry and the Circle and the stupid rules.

Her rage built and she turned it on the door, forcing it into protective magic. She could sense the strength of it and wasn't sure that this shield could even be dropped by a smite and no normal dispel could remove her shield under the best circumstances.

Tasha was starting to feel the strain under her anger but it didn't matter. "So," she said, rolling up the sleeves of her robes, "let's see what we can do for you."

It took hours. But between her gentle healings - as much as she could do - and Andrew's calming presence, it was far better than it could have been. She had never been so grateful for her attempt to specialize as a healer in her life, not only because Rebecca was a friend, but because it was just one more way to quietly rebel against the Circle.

Finally, the crying of a baby split the quiet. _Pain. Cold. Confusion._ She buried her gift into herself, wrapping a shield around it. "Congratulations, you two. You have a son," she said softly. She used a borrowed knife (actually temporarily stolen from the stockroom but she'd return it later) that had been sterilized by Andrew to cut the cord. With some of the last vestiges of her magic, she healed them. After wrapping the child up in a blanket from Rebecca's bed and handing him carefully to his mother, her friend burst into tears. Then Andrew stretched his arms around the two of them, his shoulders shaking with grief and joy.

Her throat closed. She was battling fiercely her empathy because otherwise she would be a sobbing heap on the ground.

This was supposed to be a happy day, and yet, there she was, almost up to her elbows in blood and goo with a heart so heavy she was surprised it hadn't crashed through the ground. Staring at this fragile family, she felt something then, something she hadn't felt in years. Ferocity coursed through her veins and it was fortunate that she didn't have much left in her reserves. She grabbed a blanket and with short, measured strokes, scrubbed her arms and hands cleaned. They needed privacy and she would give it to them.

Tasha turned the door, ready to march out. Andrew raised his head at her footsteps while Rebecca stilled. The new mother's terror scratched at her self-inflicted walls and she had to fight not to flinch. "Are you going to report us to the Templars?" he asked, voice rough. _Dread_.

She looked him in the eye. "No. Never the Templars. It's not their business." Something in her face or tone must have convinced him because he turned back to Rebecca, nuzzling her. Tasha didn't dare drop the shields. So instead she changed their conditions: she could leave and enter but no one else could without her presence.

She had a question for the Revered Mother, and she was pissed. Not an exceptional combination, but she stalked her way to the chapel and found the woman kneeling in front of the statue of Andraste. "I have a question for you," she said, blatantly interrupting whatever she was doing.

The Revered Mother stood and turned, eyebrows lifted in surprise at who it was. Tasha never came in there if she could help it, so she didn't blame the older woman for gawking as though she'd seen a ghost. "Are you here to join us?"

Tasha gave a snort. "Hardly." Irreverently, she perched on one of the benches, feet tucked beneath her. "My only question is this: why do you not allow mages to marry?"

The Revered Mother blinked in surprise.

"It doesn't make any sense," continued the mage. "If they marry another mage and have children with them, then you'd be able to better contain the bloodline of mages and it would be easier to see if magic is carried by blood and not just random chance." A thought suddenly occurred to her, and the mage's slanted eyes narrowed suspiciously. "Unless you don't want to risk a nonmagical child growing up in the Circle to mage parents. In which case, you would know that imprisoning the mages is wrong but you're doing it anyway." Tasha puffed up, fury flashing in her eyes. "Which is cruelty and injustice and all of you are worse for going along with it."

 _Unease_. The Revered Mother merely watched the mage. "Are you with child, my dear? Is that your concern?"

Tasha blinked. "What? No. Of course not."

"Then what brought this up?"

"You're joking, right? You actually believe mages should be locked up just for existing?"

"Magic exists to serve man and never to rule over him."

That sparked a bark of laughter from Tasha. "I can serve man just as well out there, where I can actually use my magic to do something. Actually I can serve better out there but while I could save lives, I'm trapped in this prison," she spat the word, "and people may be dying." Before the Revered Mother could respond, Tasha had already left, leaving spatterings of frost in her wake.

It was ridiculous, Tasha thought as she stalked through the hall. How could someone believe in teachings that actually condoned lawful imprisonment of innocents? And most mages were innocents, condemned to a life of isolation simply because of something they had been born with. So entangled in her thoughts, she didn't realize where she was going until she was stopped by a gauntlet-covered hand. She recognized the owner as a Templar but the only thing keeping her from lashing out was the fact that she didn't have enough left to do anything. When she looked up at the Templar, eyes burning with a cold fire and ready to tear into him, she was stopped in her tracks.

 _Concern._ Cullen watched her, body tensed.

"What?" she snapped. His eyes flickered down her body. _Alarm._ She followed his eyes and inwardly snarled curses, fighting down the thrum of immediate fear. She still had blood in a long streak on the inside of her wrist. A mage that was bleeding or at least looked like she had been. Tasha didn't even need to have her gift to know what he was feeling. "I accidentally dropped a vial and cut myself on the glass," she lied quickly. "I healed it but I didn't think about the blood."

The Templar in Cullen was suspicious, not that she blamed him. She could see that without needing her empathy but the man, the goodness inside of him that had first drawn her to him, wanted to trust her. "Already making a mess and you haven't even been a Circle mage for a full day yet," he lightly teased. But the tightness between his brows was clear evidence of the tension he found himself under.

Tasha grinned despite the sinking feeling in her stomach. "You know me, why sit back when I can raise a little hell?"

Cullen leaned away and released her arm. He nodded in the direction of the washroom. "You should probably go clean up before anyone else sees."

She didn't move, watching him for a moment. "Do you think that mages are people?"

The question startled him. "What? Of course I do."

The seriousness in her eyes, so unusual when it wasn't tempered by excitement, told him more than what her words were saying. "Then does it not bother you that mages aren't allowed to marry?"

Cullen's warm eyes widened. _Confusion. Alarm. Panic._ Underneath it all though, was a slight twinge of interest that was immediately squashed. "W-What?"

Tasha waved a hand dismissively. "I'm not talking about a mage/Templar union. That makes sense to the Chantry, conflict of interest and all that. I may not like it or agree with it, but I can see where they're coming from. But it wouldn't be a conflict of interest for mages to marry other mages. So doesn't that bother you that mages cannot marry in a Chantry union? Most mages are Andrastian anyway and I know that it bothers them-us," she quickly corrected, not daring to meet his eyes.

"I-I had never thought about it," he stammered. Her question had stirred something in him but he wasn't entirely sure what.

She studied him, watching the spread of emotions that she could feel from him playing across his face. "I do need to get cleaned up," she murmured.

The mage reached out and gently touched his arm as tenderly as a kiss before retreating. As she walked away, aware of his eyes on her, an idea began to formulate in her mind and in order for it to work, there were people she needed to talk to.

Tasha thumped on the heavy door twice and without waiting for an answer, yanked it open and strode in. First Enchanter Irving looked up mildly from his seated position at his desk. "Ah, Ms. Amell, congratulations on your Harrowing. To what do I owe the pleasure of your company this time?"

"I want to room with Rebecca." Best just to lay it on the table.

 _Surprise._ Irving merely lifted an eyebrow. _Understanding_. "Oh, why is that?"

Tasha refused to twitch. "She's a friend and she needs support. I am probably one of the most qualified in the Tower to help her." Her eyes narrowed. "You know that."

"I do, and I wonder why you are asking to have that specific room assignment when one has already been selected for you."

Then Tasha eyed him, trying to decide how much to trust him. "Where are the children taken? After they're born?"

"They are taken to orphanages."

Irving watched her eyes flash with cold fire and she seemed to puff up. "Even if the child's mother wants to keep him? That is unfair, inhuman, and you know it," she spat. Tasha took a deep breath, preparing to keep going before she suddenly stopped. She closed her eyes then and he knew she was trying to regain control of her temper before she started ranting. A thin layer of frost gathered on the stones around her feet before slowly melting as she watched him, trying to gauge his reactions. He could feel her magic sliding around him too, seeking any advantage she could though she did not trespass. "What are the protocols for a stillbirth?"

"The child is taken out of the Tower and buried."

"I'm assuming that Knight-Commander Greagoir would be informed. Who does that?"

"I do."

He watched her think for a moment, eyes glittering like a cat's. The decision to trust him flickered across her face almost faster than thought and he stifled a twitch of his lips.

"Rebecca wants to keep her baby. I have some training as a healer and helped to deliver him." She lifted her chin defiantly though fear was twisting around inside. "Actually, both parents want to raise the child and even though mages cannot marry," her voice hardened to ice, "they want to raise him together. And I don't blame them." Her eyes met his and he was surprised by the depth of emotion she was expressing. "Please, Ir- First Enchanter Irving," she seemed to fold down a little as she recognized his rank," give them some time with him. I want to help Rebecca."

"What are you asking of me?"

Tasha huffed, frustrated. "Fine. You want me to spell it out? I want you to break the rules for Rebecca. I want you to let her keep her son. I'll help her keep his presence a secret. I'll do whatever I have to do."

Irving watched her for a moment. And then he returned his attention to the papers sitting on his desk. "We never had this conversation."

Tasha's eyes gleamed in triumph and for a moment, Irving felt the ferocity of her emotions slide over him and he stiffened in surprise. The young mage turned and left his office, nearly vibrating with joy. It was a surprisingly quick trip around and she slipped into the room quietly, nose wrinkling at the smell. Andrew and Rebecca looked up, their fear choking in her throat.

And then she smiled. "You're good for at least a little bit. And I'm moving in here with you to help you take care of him."

Andrew stiffened, blinking in surprise. Then the words of the younger woman sank in and Tasha's own eyes teared with joy. "This has to be a joke," Rebecca choked out.

"I don't know how long this will last. And if the Templars find out, well, I don't need to tell you how bad it will be." Rebecca glanced down at her son and flinched. "But you do have a little time with him so I suggest you enjoy it. Now, I want something slightly more cheerful," Tasha said, lifting an eyebrow with a smile. "What are you going to name him?"

Rebecca looked up at Andrew. "I always liked the name Rafe."

"It's a good name," he agreed.

"Good." Tasha's eyes narrowed at the new father. "I'm sorry to kick you out but I'm tired and it's been a long day. So shoo. I'm tired and we both need to rest."

With that, Andrew found himself outside the room as the door shut behind him with fierce finality.

* * *

AN:

So after working on this for...a while, I'm finally putting this up. I would like to thank my beta reader asteracea for her patience and the fact that she lets me ramble about odd details. Dragon Age and all associated characters (except for Tasha, I guess) belong to Bioware. Let me know what y'all think!


	2. The Last Homely House

2\. The Last Homely House

The Tower was tense, had been that way for a couple of weeks and Tasha's magic was more unpredictable than usual because of it. She'd taken to spending most of her free time in one library or the other, but she preferred the one on the first floor because she could watch the apprentices practice spells. Their concentration and nervousness was familiar and comfortable, giving her a moment's respite from the buzzing energy of the Tower.

The apprentice she was currently watching was working on a shield spell. James was on the verge of bolting and only the fact that there was a Templar glaring at him kept him rooted to the ground. His teacher, an enchanter who had gone through his Harrowing a few years after she was dragged to the Circle, sighed.

"I am not your enemy. Fear is your enemy," he gently scolded when the apprentice's incredibly unstable shield wavered under the tiny fireball that the enchanter sent at him and knocked James to the ground. Tasha perked up at his words, eyes brightening. "It is a weakness that can be exploited. Should you face a demon with your will wavering so, it would consume you. Is that what you want?" _Worry._

James on the other hand was, on top of being afraid of the fireball the enchanter was sending at him, terrified that he would never get shielding down. "N-no?" he stammered. Tasha blinked sympathetically but even though the three months had passed, she still had nightmares of her Harrowing. The apprentice needed as much as help as possible. Remembered rage slithered down her back and she shivered.

"Then stand firm and know you can resist whatever I can throw at you. Again!" A pleased smile spread across Tasha's face when, despite the fear trying to paralyze him, the young apprentice managed to stay on his feet. The enchanter too smiled. Neither compared to the triumphant grin that radiated from James' face.

"I-I actually did it!"

"You're not done yet. But I think you've figured it out enough that you can work at it on your own for a little bit before I come see your progress." James scampered off at the dismissal, whooping. The enchanter finally chuckled, shaking his head before walking over to Tasha.

"I don't believe we've officially met. I'm Artaemus, or Art if you'd rather. I know it's a mouthful." He offered a hand for her to shake.

"Tasha Amell."

"Ah, yes. The newest Circle mage. I heard good things about your Harrowing. I heard it was one of the most textbook ones we've had in a while." Art smiled dryly, a secret between the two mages that wasn't shared by the apprentices around them. _Interest._

Tasha looked at him curiously. He was one of the only full Circle mages she'd spoken to since she'd joined their ranks and she didn't dare ask Rebecca if what she was going through was normal; the other woman was a hysterical breakdown waiting to happen and the only thing keeping her stable was Tasha's presence.

"Can I ask you a question about it?"

"Of course." Instantly, he was back in teaching mode.

She lowered her voice, not wanting to draw attention to the question. "How long did it take you to stop having nightmares?"

 _Understanding_. "You should be getting close to the stopping point although I've noticed that when I drain myself too much, the nightmares come back."

That was the problem, then. "Ah. Okay. Thank you."

 _Concern_. When she went to turn away, Art grasped her upper arm. She tensed and sparks reflexively skittered across his hand. He released her with a wince. "Are you okay?"

She met his worried brown eyes. "Of course I am. Why do you ask?"

He hesitated. "Nothing. No particular reason," he said finally. Tasha's eyes narrowed.

"I should go," she said slowly. There was a slight flash of inward irritation and regret before he turned away.

As she went to leave, her attention was grabbed by a different enchanter, one with which she was familiar. Mentally, she growled but went over. As she approached, she took stock of how they were feeling. Dennet was nursing several burns already, but that was more than she'd been able to produce. He was also nearly in tears, both from the pain and fear of his magic. Fortel was not paying any attention.

The Templar nearby shifted uneasily when she waved a hand, cooling the air over the apprentice's burns to soothe them. Her eyes met Fortel's in a glare. "I'm sure you've met Miss Amell. She seems to be everywhere these days," Fortel said, smiling at her. "But I have never seen anyone as singularly gifted with ice and utterly terrible with fire, as normally, if a mage's magic exists most happily in a particular school, the mage has access to all branches of the school." Fortel peered down at Dennet through his bifocals. "You have learned about the schools of magic, yes?"

Dennet reddened. "Yes, sir," he answered quietly with a glance at Tasha.

"Fortel, why did you want me to come over?"

"I want you to explain how you control your magic."

She could have rolled her eyes. Instead she looked at the apprentice mildly, knowing what she needed to do. "I'm going to do something, okay? It's going to feel weird, but it's going to help."

 _Trust._ When he nodded his permission, she gestured for him to sit on the floor and she plopped down in front of him. One hand rested on his knee, giving her the opening she needed and then she reached out with the other part of her gift, the part that was far too active those days to keep close readings on Rafe. Instead of simply brushing against him, like she normally did, Tasha gently slid her gift inside him, wanting this to be as painless as possible. He shivered. _Alarm. Comfort._

She didn't blame him for being a little conflicted. So she began talking, keeping her voice at an even tone and keeping her own emotions settled and her shield tightened. As intimately as they were joined at that moment, she didn't need outside emotions bleeding into him other than what she wanted to give him. "This isn't something most mages are capable of doing and I've had to fight long and hard to understand it as well as I do. Can I learn more? Of course. But it's not the learning that is important, not necessarily. It's trusting that I will be in control of it and it won't control me." As she spoke, she transferred to him the feeling of calm joy for magic and soothed away some of his fear. "Magic should be feared only as one would fear skill with a sword or a bow. It is not inherently dangerous, if you can control it. Yes, we have the risk of possession-" she paused at the sharp flash of fear that ebbed to a dull throbbing.

"I knew this was a good idea," Fortel muttered, grinning broadly. Tasha ignored him and the bright pleasure that threatened to call her attention, tightening the shield.

"It's understandable, and I think all mages share that fear with you," she said softly, staring into the boy's eyes.

He blinked slowly. "Even you?'

Tasha laughed softly, throwing up a wall between him and the bitterness in her soul that flared up. "Yes, even me."

"Then how do you do it?" he asked.

She paused in her work, trying to ignore the headache that was developing. Slowly, mulling the words over in her mind, she replied, "By trusting in myself and my gift. Sometimes it's easier than others. But I always remember why I shouldn't fear what is as much a part of me as my left hand."

"So…" he paused, a small crinkle developing between his eyebrows. "Magic is a good thing?"

She didn't try to hide or mute the joy that made her smile and warmed him through the connection she'd formed with him. "It most certainly is. The Chantry teaches that magic exists to serve man, but never to rule over him. That doesn't mean it's a punishment or a curse. It's simply a different tool that we can use to help other people." Despite her lack of faith, she knew that most people in the Circle were fairly devout or believed on some level.

"Like you're doing right now, with me?"

That was when she shrugged. "You needed help and I was able to give it. That should be how everyone behaves, not just mages because we seem to need to prove to everyone else that we are not a danger." He flinched a little at the loss of her presence when she withdrew but it was mostly subconscious. She rose to her feet, noticing already how much more settled he felt and dipped her head to Enchanter Fortel.

Before either of them could say another word, she nearly fled.

She'd just made it to the steps leading up to the next floor when a timid voice behind her said, "Tasha?"

This time she did growl as she spun around. "What?"

The girl was young, probably a new apprentice and by the startled and almost awestruck look on her face, she'd probably already started hearing the tales about the older mage. "F-First Enchanter Ir-Irving wants to talk to you," she stammered.

Tasha sighed, immediately repentant though she could feel everything in her sparking. "All right. Thank you for telling me."

Tasha turned and headed to Irving's office. She was nearly snapping by the time she barged into the room, interrupting an argument between Irving and Greagoir. She stopped dead as three sets of eyes landed on her.

Greagoir's anger and frustration slide over her like burning fire and she had to fight not to flinch. "We will finish this later," he growled as he shoved past her.

"What was that about?" she couldn't stop the question before it slipped out.

"Nothing that concerns you at the moment," Irving answered. The old man was not nearly as volatile as Knight-Commander Greagoir but even he was frustrated by whatever she had interrupted.

The third man, Tasha didn't recognize. He was a stranger in a place where strangers were almost nonexistent. And what was even more startling was when she brushed up against him with her empathy, he felt...wrong, like she had to fight through something thick and oily to reach him and even when she did, she could barely feel anything, even though they were close in proximity.

Irving followed her curious gaze to the dark stranger and for a moment, his satisfaction distracted her. "Is this-" the stranger asked.

"Yes, this is she." Now, she jerked her head around to stare at him. There was no doubt that was pride in his voice. Pride? In her?

The stranger looked her up and down and Tasha stiffened slowly, feeling like she was being judged. Something flickered in his dark eyes. Her own flashed in response and she lifted her chin defiantly. "I can see why you've spoken of her so frequently."

"This is Duncan of the Grey Wardens. Duncan, this is Miss Tasha Amell, newest mage of the Circle of Ferelden," Irving introduced the two.

Tasha had to fight to keep her jaw from hitting the floor. That was when she eagerly took in the griffin embellishments on his armor. She had devoured the stories of the Grey Wardens and their sacrifices during Blights, dreaming of one day being as important as they were and serving in a way that few other people, let alone mages, ever did.

And now she was in the presence of one. _Amused._ "If I'd known this was all it would take to render you speechless, I'd have asked Duncan to come years ago," Irving said.

She swiveled her head towards the older mage before refocusing on Duncan. "A Grey Warden? Here?" She couldn't keep the excitement from her voice. "In the tower?"

Irving smiled and the Grey Warden, Duncan nodded. "Grey Wardens go wherever duty sends them."

"You've heard about the war brewing to the south, I expect?" Irving asked. She nodded in affirmation, eyes fixed on this Duncan. "Duncan is recruiting mages to join the king's army at Ostagar."

"So, that's where all the enchanters have been going."

"You noticed?"

For a second, she could taste freedom. Her eyes gleamed fiercely as her mind began to churn. "Of course I did. I want to defend Fereldan too."

"Tasha," Irving scolded the young mage quickly but she took it like she would a puppy jumping on her.

"I'm a strong mage. Irving knows that. Let me come with you."

"With the darkspawn invading, we need all the help we can get, especially from the Circle," the Grey Warden said slowly. Duncan was very calm for needing all this help. Outwardly at least. Inwardly, he was worried, and Tasha could tell that even through the murkiness that surrounded him.

"What do you mean?" she asked hesitantly.

"The power you mages wield is an asset for any army. Your spells are very effective against large groups of mindless darkspawn. I fear if we don't drive them back, we may see another Blight." Her jaw tightened a little as she mentally acknowledged that her particular gifts weren't the most efficient against large groups but she wasn't going to point that out.

"No, I meant, what exactly do you mean?" she pressed. There was something else there and she couldn't ask something she didn't know what to ask for. Tasha caught a glimmer of respect from him but it was slippery as a fish.

"Duncan, you worry the poor girl with talk of Blights and darkspawn," Irving didn't let Duncan answer. So that was what Irving and Greagoir had been arguing about.

"We live in troubled times, my friend," Duncan said solemnly.

"We should seize moments of levity, especially in troubled times." Her head snapped up and she fixed Irving with a glare. He was hiding something.

"Irving, what did you want?"

"I simply thought that you would like to meet Duncan. Would you mind escorting him to his room?"

 _Hope_. She smiled, though it was a little bitter. "I would love to." Irving realized why she was being so agreeable and sighed.

"Do come back after you have done so."

She chatted with Duncan on her way there, carefully and curiously monitoring him and trying to understand why she couldn't read him. The Grey Warden was polite though there were several moments when she got a sense of the same fire that lit her.

But she dutifully dropped him off and then returned to Irving's office. On her way there, though, she overheard a conversation that had her stopped in her tracks. "Did you hear?" Geoffry asked quietly. The apprentice was almost never soft-spoken.

"Hear what?" His best friend, Anthony, asked. Anthony and Geoffry were essentially opposites but it was good for Geoffry to have that stabilizing presence.

His voice lowered even more and she had to strain to hear it. "I heard they suspect someone of dabbling in blood magic."

Distress made Tasha twitch and it was echoed in Anthony, fueling her own feeling. "Why would anyone do something so stupid? That's a death sentence." She may not agree with pretty much everything the Chantry said, but it was common knowledge for blood magic to be a dangerous thing and she almost agreed with the death sentence part. It was almost as bad as working with demons.

"Because blood magic is powerful? You can bend others to your will and...and...force demons into your service. That's what I hear, anyway," he added hastily, understanding how it sounded. Anthony gave a snort and walked away. He actually walked past Tasha and she leaned into the shadows, trying not to be seen. She waited for a few more seconds and then walked past Geoffry, who was staring broodily after his friend.

The news was troublesome, but between that and the fact that Greagoir and Irving were arguing, it explained why the Tower was so tense. For a moment, she felt a dark undercurrent flowing just beneath the general unpleasant strain that felt so entirely wrong that for a moment, she felt sick. And then she stopped. Horror filled her heart when she remembered the day after her Harrowing, she'd walked down the halls with blood on her wrist. She had no interest in blood magic. But Templars tended to behead first and ask questions later.

It was then that she forced herself to keep going, simply because Irving had wanted to talk with her. When she got back to his office, her eyes were drawn to a stack of books on his desk that she hadn't noticed before. Books on blood magic, the ones from the library. She hadn't understood when she started to read them five years ago how wrong blood magic felt but she hadn't finished even one and hadn't returned to them. Even though she was interested in just having knowledge for knowledge's sake, she recognized that that was a dangerous thing to have knowledge of and so had redirected her attentions. She hadn't gone back to them.

To see those books sitting on Irving's desk was worrisome. She met his eyes. "Why are the books on blood magic taken from the library?"

Irving glanced behind him at the books. _Worry_. "I have been advised it would be wise to remove them from where prying eyes could see them. They will be put away somewhere very safe." Her heart sank. "But that was not what I wanted to talk to you about. How is Rebecca doing?"

"She could be better. She's a little stressed and hasn't been sleeping particularly well since I moved in, though I've been doing what I can to help her out. She also has been able to get a little more sleep the past couple of weeks than she has been so that's good for both of us."

Irving nodded. "Good, good. And how are you doing?"

The desire to tell him about her nightmares flared up but she swallowed the words down and instead chose to tell a different truth. "Honestly, I want out of the Tower. Not that it ever particularly felt safe to me, but it doesn't feel right anymore. It feels like," she paused, searching for the words, "right before a storm, a big one, the kind where thunder shakes the tower and I hate those." Irving chuckled despite the half-hearted glare she turned on him.

"Tempers are running a little high but I'm sure it's nothing to worry about," he replied mildly.

She gave him a flat look that clearly spoke of her disbelief. "And I'm queen of Ferelden."

"If anything changes, you'll be sure to let me know?" he asked.

Tasha didn't answer him for a long while, simply studying him. Finally she nodded and turned on her heel to walk off.

* * *

 ** _AN: I hope y'all enjoyed the second chapter. And I'd like to give a shoutout to The Byronic Writer_ _for following._**

 ** _Let me know what you think, even if you absolutely hated it. Peace! But...not literally._**


	3. Curse Your Sudden, Inevitable Betrayal

3\. Curse Your Sudden But Inevitable Betrayal

Brooding, Tasha turned around and headed back into the hall. The mage was so lost in her thoughts that she didn't realize where she was going and ran directly into Jowan. Startled, she formed frost on her suddenly clenched fists faster than she could blink and the air chilled. "Are you all right?" Jowan asked, studying her, hands braced on her shoulders. He must have felt the drop in temperature but chose not to comment on it, ignoring also the sparks born from the contact.

"Yeah. Sorry, just a bit distracted." She shook her head to clear it.

"Well, I'm glad I caught up to you," he commented. Her mouth twitched.

"Been following me?" she asked coldly with a delicately arched eyebrow. Jowan looked affronted and she broke her cool appearance, smiling to show she didn't mean anything by it.

He leaned in closer. "I need to talk to you," he murmured.

She followed suit. "Why are you whispering? It looks very suspicious," she said, only partly teasing.

And then he shushed her. Tasha blinked in surprise. "I just don't want anyone to hear us." She straightened up, looking at him curiously. Jowan wanted to discuss something that wasn't okay for all ears? Shocking. What shocked her more was his next statement. "We should go somewhere else. I don't feel safe talking here."

That made Tasha frown. There was an edginess rolling off of him, one that was indecently similar to the vibe in the tower, and she didn't like it. "Are you okay? You're starting to worry me, Jowan."

"I've been," he hesitated, "troubled. I'll...I'll explain. Just come with me, please."

That accursed curiosity that had had her so closely watched as an apprentice reared up and nipped the black-haired mage in the rear. Silently, she followed him to…

The chapel. Her eyebrows lifted when he went in. The Templars would know something was up because there was no way she would go in there twice in less than four months of her own free will. He made his way back to a corner, where one of the initiates had been praying when she'd glanced inside earlier, looking for Cullen.

"We should be safe here." Her eyebrows went a little higher and so did her curiosity.

"In the chapel? The Templars' favorite haunt?" She gave a pointed glance at the initiate who hadn't said a word yet was standing right beside Jowan. "You do realize there's a priest standing right here, right?"

"We can see the door from here. If anyone comes, we'll change the subject," explained the woman in question. This was getting more interesting by the second.

"And she's not a priest. She's an initiate. Her name's Lily," Jowan corrected.

Tasha's eyes narrowed as she looked back and forth between the two of them suspiciously. There was something wrong. "Jowan, what's going on?"

"A few months ago, I told you that I," again, he hesitated, "met a girl. This is her."

"An initiate. An initiate?" Cullen's face sprang to mind as did the word hypocrite. The smile she put on her face was undoubtedly bitter and she gave a snort. "And here I was beginning to doubt her existence." Tasha tipped her head toward the girl. "You have my condolences, Lily."

"Very funny." Jowan scowled at her.

Tasha smirked. "I try. But you can't have brought me here to chat about love."

"I wish that was the only thing I needed to talk about."

"Andraste's knickers, Jowan. You're so serious. Relax a little."

He gave her a flat look. "Remember I said that I didn't think they wanted to give me my Harrowing?"

She nodded slowly. "That was months ago." She realized, with a pang of guilt, that she hadn't noticed that he hadn't gone through his Harrowing yet.

"I know why now. They're going to make me Tranquil."

"What?" She blinked, eyebrows inching up to her hairline. Jowan went on as if his friend hadn't spoken, now pacing.

"They'll take everything that I am from me: my dreams, hopes, fears, my love for Lily." He glanced at the girl who had remained quiet. "All gone." _Dread. Fear. Regret._

Fear made her fingertips cool, though it wasn't her own doing. Whatever was going on with Jowan was a strong enough emotion to break through. She swallowed hard. "But if you can't feel, then you can't feel sad about it." Terrible bedside manner. She wanted to smack herself in the face.

Jowan stared at her and already she felt guilty.

"That makes it so much worse, doesn't it?" Lily asked quietly. "Not knowing how much you have lost…" Her voice trailed off.

Tasha could see the sparks coming from Jowan's hands as he paced more furiously, emotions tipping into his magic. "They'll extinguish my humanity. I'll just be a husk, breathing and existing but not truly living," he ranted. Carefully, she used her magic to cool the area around him. Not much, but it was enough to keep the sparks down to a minimum. No one really needed him setting something on fire.

She had to calm him down. "How did you find out about this?" she asked.

It wasn't even Jowan that answered her. "I saw the document on Greagoir's table. It authorized the Rite on Jowan, and Irving had signed it," Lily replied in her soft voice.

Tasha's head whipped around and she glared at her. Then _she_ was the one who had started this whole mess. "You're an initiate," she said coldly. Lily flinched away, but held her ground. Clearly, she hadn't heard stories. "You're supposed to serve the Chantry, and by extension the Templars and the Circles. What gain are you getting from this?" Lily opened her mouth and shut it, looking a little like the fish that swam in the brook that went through the village Tasha had lived in during her life before. When no answer was forthcoming, the mage gave a snort and turned her attention back to Jowan. "Why would they do this to you?"

"There's a rumor about me. People think I'm a blood mage," Jowan answered hesitantly. Everything made sense suddenly. Geoffry and Anthony. The books behind Irving's desk. The heightened tension. And the relief that weakened her knees made shame and guilt burn in her soul. "They think that making me a Circle mage will endanger everyone."

Still, she struggled not to jump to conclusions because Jowan was still one of her best friends and he deserved the benefit of the doubt. But it was shrinking by the second. That had to be the only reason she couldn't feel his emotions like she used to. Tasha lifted an eyebrow coolly. "And are they right about that?" she asked carefully.

"Of course not! But it's not safe here for me anymore," Jowan snapped. Once again, he was pacing like a caged mabari. "I need to escape. I need to destroy my phylactory. Without it, they can't track me down. We need your help. Lily and I can't do this on our own." He stopped pacing and grabbed her hands, looking down into her eyes imploringly and ignoring the sparks.

"Give us your word that you will help and we will tell you what we intend." His _love_ had the nerve to speak to her. Tasha's lip curled. But she couldn't just flat out refuse. This was Jowan, and she owed him.

But at the same time, she couldn't dispel the screeching doubts in her mind that every second she couldn't break past his barrier grew ever louder. "I need to think this over," she growled, pulling her hands out of Jowan's and rubbing her temples against the headache that was forming.

"I suppose that's fair. But please give us your answer soon. Time is running out." Her back stiffened and she turned and walked out.

Tasha didn't even realize where she was going until she was there. Cullen. Her big, cuddly, Templar teddy bear with a big, sharp sword.

"Hi, Tasha." The smile dropped from his face when he saw hers. "What's wrong?" he asked, concern written all over his face and his emotions. She watched him shift his hand to the hilt of said sword. That action cut through some of the whirlwind that was Tasha and it truly touched her that he thought she was in that kind of danger. Or any danger at all.

"I just, I got some unexpected news," she answered slowly.

Cullen studied her. "Your magic is all over the place," he informed her. His eyes flicked behind her. "Plus you left frost."

Tasha's cheeks went pink. As much as she liked the stammering, uncertain Cullen that came out when she flirted with him or when he didn't want to say something, she liked this one too, the one who was sure of himself and his abilities. He shifted and she could just make out the smell of lyrium that clung to him like a second skin, followed closely by a call of her mana to the magic he took.

"Oops," she whispered, feeling a twinge of unease.

"Must have been some news."

She looked up at him. He was worried for her. As much independence as she'd learned since coming to the Circle, it was still incredibly nice. Her heart gave an unsteady jump. And that was when she knew what to do. She was a survivor and she had to do so at whatever the cost. She placed a hand on Cullen's plate covered chest and could have sworn that she could feel his heart thumping through the metal and padding. Uncertainty flickered in his eyes. She had to lean on him a bit, but she stretched toward him and gently placed her lips on his. She pulled away quickly, before anyone could see. "You haven't slept today, have you?" she accused softly.

"No," he admitted, his voice just as quiet.

She smiled. "You should do that." She stepped away from his reach. "Thank you, Cullen. You helped me figure out what to do."

He didn't want her to leave, she could read it in his face and emotions. But there was work to do and as a full-fledged mage of the Circle and as a friend, it was her unfortunate and necessary duty. She briefly kissed him once more, moving out of range once again. There was an unfamiliar emotion flickering in his hazel eyes and she didn't want to stop and analyze it so her gift was forcibly tucked away. She turned and went down the hall, feeling his eyes burning into her back.

The hard decisions wouldn't stop after that one and some part of her would always regret walking away.

She stood outside Irving's office, again, before lifting her chin and walking in. Direct. Very direct.

Irving was seated at his desk and barely glanced up when Tasha entered. "So soon, Miss Amell?"

"When is Jowan going through his Harrowing?" It was less a question and more a demand, a challenge.

"When he is ready."

"He's ready now."

 _Frustration_. "It is not your place to decide these things."

Ice crawled up the wall behind her. He watched it with a flicker of alarm though he knew she would stop herself before she did anything. "He should have gone through his Harrowing before me. And it's been three months since mine. Why?"

"Why do you ask?

She lifted her chin and wrapped her courage around herself, ignoring her pounding heart. Here goes nothing. "He fears he is going to be made tranquil."

"And how does he know this? I suppose the young initiate he dallies about with revealed it to him." She stared at him. "You think I didn't know? I did not become First Enchanter by keeping my eyes and ears shut."

Tasha nearly choked. _Cullen._ The look in his eyes when she pulled away from him. They knew about him too. They had to. "Please." The word came out strangled and she forced herself to take a step away from her emotions. "I beg you. Don't do this to Jowan." She could barely breathe.

"Greagoir says he has proof- and eyewitness testimony- that Jowan has been practicing blood magic. I cannot say more. Were it left to me, things might be different. But the Chantry…" He shook his head. "I'm sorry, child. This Rite of Tranquility will happen."

She was going to lose both of them. No. She already had. As soon as Tasha had expressed interest in Cullen, she had lost him to the Order and his vows and Jowan...Jowan had been lost to blood magic. She wanted to cry but couldn't. The trials she'd gone through during her Harrowing hadn't broken her. Hiding Rafe for three months had been difficult, but doable. This? The ice behind her melted as, defeated, she gave Jowan up. "Then you must know that Jowan plans to escape the Circle," she told Irving, head down.

"Oh? Interesting. What more do you know?"

She met Irving's pitying eyes. "All right. Jowan and Lily want to escape the Circle."

"She would know more about the repository than he would. Do you know anything else?"

Tasha shook her head. "No, Lily has the plan."

"I suspected Lily would tell him of the impending Rite if she found out. But I never expected they would have the gall to break into the repository."

She looked like a kicked puppy. "What will you do with Jowan?" she asked timidly.

"Reporting him to Greagoir and the Templars will accomplish nothing beyond what's already planned. If the Circle must punish one of its own, I will see the Chantry done the same courtesy. Lily will not walk free while my apprentice suffers."

The air in his office chilled as her anger rose. "Lily is just trying to save the man she loves." Tasha had to give her that, even though she was placing a lot of blame for this on the initiate's shoulders.

"She is also breaking every vow she ever took." Fierce satisfaction made the side of her mouth curl up. Irving was on her side with this. But Cullen… "If we mention her involvement, the Chantry will say that she was framed. No, she must be caught in the act."

"You're right. The Chantry would do the same to us."

"If you want to survive, you must learn the rules and realize that sometimes sacrifices are necessary."

"I couldn't agree more." Her eyes flashed coldly though her heart hurt.

"Jowan will become tranquil, but Lily must also face the consequences of her actions. How did you learn of their plan? Do they trust you?"

She was betraying her friend. The realization made what little bit left that could still feel freeze. Mechanically, she replied, "Jowan told me their intentions, but I don't know the plan."

"Then do this: learn the plan, and offer to help carry out their scheme. With solid proof of their crime, we can act."

Tasha nodded, hating herself for what she was about to do and had already done. And unfortunately, she was going to have to act as though nothing were wrong. Her heart and soul ached, caught between two duties and two rights. "I will do what you ask."

"Go. Convince them you will risk all for their cause." Irving didn't realize it but when she told him, she'd already risked everything and was about to lose it all. "I will be outside the repository with a contingent of Templars. Let them see the mischief into which their initiate led our student. Perform well, and your dedication will be rewarded."

She knew what she was going to ask. For Cullen not to be transferred. She didn't care if she was never allowed to speak to him again; she was willing to sacrifice one of the most important people in her life for another. But Maker, her heart hurt.

Tasha turned on her heel and marched out. She got the plan from Jowan and honestly, she was fairly certain that it was the worst idea she'd ever heard, and that included Anders' plan to escape the third time. It took her some time but eventually, after killing some massive spiders in the caverns beneath the tower, getting her immaculate robes filthy, and receiving the permission she needed for the rod of fire, she made her way eventually back to Jowan and...her. The initiate didn't like Tasha and the feeling was mutual.

With Jowan and Lily in tow, she headed down to the basement. Feeling somewhat self-conscious, she took a path around the tower that would prevent her from seeing Cullen again. What she was doing was wrong and she knew it to the depths of her soul. So, down they went to the first floor.

Two apprentices were talking quietly in a corner and they hadn't noticed them. "Jowan's been acting weird all day. Have you seen him?" one said.

The other shook her head. "What do you mean?"

"Well, between you and me, I think it has something to do with the Templars being more alert. You know, they suspect him of blood magic." The first apprentice pulled a book off the shelf and started flipping through it. The other one gave a low hum of agreeance but otherwise said nothing.

Tasha glanced back at Jowan, who was staring straight ahead, the muscle in his jaw twitching. His anger was soft, but it was still there. Acting confident when she was far from feeling that way, the mage led the way into the basement.

* * *

 ** _AN: Ah, Tasha. Lovely time for you to start making tough decisions. So sorry, but it doesn't get easier after this._**

 ** _Also, just an FYI, I will be uploading again today, probably tonight (MDT). It's my parents' anniversary and since I get a good day, I might as well share it with the rest of you lovely folks. And as always, huge shoutout to my beta, asteracea. She's amazing._**


	4. Don't Blink

**_AN: Really quick before you read, make sure you also read chapter 3, which I put out here earlier today. Many thanks!_**

* * *

4\. Don't Blink

"Damn it! You've got to be kidding me? What the hell is _wrong_ with these people? And what the hell were those crazy people doing when they decided to booby trap this place with...What even are those?" Tasha ranted. Sparks were flying around her as she froze the suits of armor that had come to life and were attacking them. Jowan was barely helpful, he'd never been a particularly powerful mage, and Lily's combat skills were laughable at best. Which left her.

"Tasha, you're freezing the floor!" Jowan snapped, ducking under a swing from the sword. "Chill!"

"I think chilling is the last thing I should be doing, Jow-Jow!"

"Jow-Jow? What the hell?" Jowan stopped, staring at the other mage.

With a flourish, Tasha expanded a shield in the armor, causing it to break apart. She was panting but a broad grin spread across her face despite what they were doing; so exhilarated was she by her somewhat free use of magic. "I'm just hurt that you never considered me for your affections." She blinked innocently at him. Jowan stammered, eyes wide as sovereigns. Tasha burst out laughing. "You should see the look on your face! I'm just kidding."

"I'm sorry to interrupt but we should keep moving," Lily said quietly.

The mage looked at her, the happy buzz she'd been feeling from actually using her magic fading. "You don't need to worry about me. I was never interested in him in that way."

"I'm not sure whether I should be insulted or not."

"You're more like a brother and I'm not telling you what to feel one way or the other."

"No, you just know what I'm feeling."

Tasha turned on him, eyes accusatory. "Jowan!"

He stepped back, hands raised in apology. "Sorry. I forgot. You don't like people mentioning it."

"People don't know about it. That's why they don't mention it." She stared at him, searching his eyes when she didn't want to push past whatever wall he had up. "It's only been three months." The most important detail of her survival and he had forgotten about it.

"I hate to interrupt, but should we really be doing this right now?" Lily asked hesitantly.

That brought her back to where they were and what they were doing, what she was doing. Tasha pulled up short, restraining a sigh. "No." She gave Jowan a flat look that he couldn't possibly misinterpret. "We'll talk about this later."

"Fine." _Guilt_. Her face softened and when his eyes flicked to hers, so did he. The three of them continued on their way and while nervous energy still fueled them, they were all more subdued. She didn't want to enjoy being able to use her magic because when she got back up into the tower, she knew that she wouldn't be able to be as free.

They made their way through the basement of the tower, still fighting the suits of armor that were acting as sentinels and occasionally there were sentinel mages. Those caused some problems and Tasha found herself nearly sliced in half on several occasions trying to handle them. Then, finally, they made it to a storage room. Tasha stared around her, eyes wide.

"Talk about secret keeping," she said a little breathlessly. Then she was stroking her fingers along the dusty spines of books she had only heard of. "Andraste's Mana: A Mage Fighting Mages." She looked over at Jowan. "There's a book in the enchanter's library that has a sentence about the theory that Andraste was a mage. It's inside a really, really dull book about magical lineage in the Tevinter Imperium and actually lists genealogies. I skipped most of it," she shrugged apologetically when Jowan stared at her. "But most of the copies of this book were burned and I'm pretty sure that it's banned especially down here in the southern lands. What is it doing here?"

"How should I know?"

When Tasha reached to pull the book down from the shelf, Lily gasped behind her. "You're not seriously thinking about reading that, are you? That's blasphemy!"

Tasha turned, glaring. She opened her mouth to speak when faint tickling across her magic made her jerk her head around. "Do we have to fight now? We're so close and-" Tasha ignored Jowan, his voice fading to the back of her awareness, and followed the tickling. It grew stronger and then she was picking up emotions that were more ancient than anything she'd ever felt but she couldn't get a lock on any of them. "Are you even listening to me?" Jowan followed her. They stopped, looking up at a statue.

"This statue is old, probably one of the oldest things in here."

"There's something odd about it."

"I wonder who it is."

"Greetings." Both of them jumped. Behind them, she felt Lily freeze.

"Maker's breath! Did it just say something?" Jowan exclaimed.

As if ignoring his interruption, the statue continued. "I am the essence and spirit of Eleni Zinovia, once consort and advisor to Archon Valerius. Prophecy my crime, cursed to stone for foretelling the fall of my lord's house."

Tasha's eyes went wide. "Archon Valerius? As in THE Archon Valerius?" If the talking statue was telling the truth, then that made it, her, ancient _and_ Tevinter. What was it doing speaking common?

Again, ignoring the interruption, the statue said, "'Forever shall you stand on the threshold of my proud fortress,' he said, 'and tell your lies to all who pass…' But my lord found death at the hands of his enemies and his once proud fortress crumbled to dust, as I foretold."

"A Tevinter statue! Don't listen to it! The Tevinter lords dabbled in many forbidden arts! This is a wicked thing!" Lily sounded slightly hysterical. And from a Chantry point of view, she had a point. But this was magic, this was Tasha's heritage and her birthright and she wanted to know what this statue knew. The initiate had no right to tell her of wickedness when she thought Tasha was cursed with her magic.

The mage of course ignored her. "How did a Tevinter statue get here?"

"Regardless, it must have been here for years. Look at the dust." Jowan went quiet for a moment before he spoke again. _Regret_. _Pity_. His emotions were still more muted than she was expecting but for the moment, she was okay with getting something from him. The ancient tremblings from the statue were pulling at her attention anyway so it could have been that distraction. "I feel a little sorry for it...her," he corrected.

"Weep not for me, child. Stone they made me and stone I am, eternal and unfeeling. And I shall endure til the Maker returns to light their fires again." The statue spoke with nearly the same steadiness as those made tranquil.

"What does that mean?" Tasha asked her.

"Ambiguous rubbish. It could mean anything," Jowan scoffed. "I can do it too: the sun grows dark but lo! Here comes the dawn!" Tasha turned her head to glare at him.

"Stop talking to it. Please, both of you." Lily was not happy. Tasha, however, was in her element. History and magic in one neat bundle. However, a nagging reminder of the task at hand itched in the back of her mind.

Regretfully, she turned his attention back to the statue. "We can't do much with it, anyway."

"Come on, Jowan. Let's go." Lily grabbed his arm and pulled him away.

Tasha stayed for a few moments, studying the stony face. There was something about her that seemed familiar but she couldn't place how she could recognize a woman who had died, per se, centuries before she was born.

"Tasha, over here!" With one last searching glance, Tasha joined them in front of a squat dog artifact.

"What do you think this does?" Jowan asked.

"Why does the Circle keep so many Tevinter artifacts in storage?" Lily demanded.

"It's history, Lily," Jowan saved Tasha from biting the foolish initiate's head off. "And it's fascinating." She didn't verbally agree but the twitching smile said what she didn't loud and clear.

"And...I think I've seen pictures of it. Or something similar. They were used to amplify one's spells." Tasha studied the artifact curiously.

Jowan's face lit up with excitement. "I bet we could use this to break into the phylactory chamber."

His excitement was catching. "The rod," she said, her eyes meeting his.

"The mortar's crumbling behind that bookshelf." The two mages approached it. "Should be pretty easy to move this."

Tasha's eyebrow lifted. The bookshelf looked solid. "It looks fairly heavy to me."

"If we work together, we can shift it. Come on." Lily didn't help.

Finally, the three of them made it into the chamber that they had been going for from the beginning and were immediately set upon by three suits of armor. Tasha jumped back a heartbeat too slow when one of the sentinels swung its sword toward her. Her magic pulsed, drawing from the coldness in the room and she froze it solid.

A yelp from Lily had her turning and she threw up a barrier around the initiate just in time to stop her from getting chopped in half. The blow to her shield dropped Tasha to her knees, the pressure on her mind flaring painfully and she wanted to curl up into a ball. She didn't notice what Jowan did because of the ringing in her ears but then the sentinel crumpled to the ground.

"Tash! You're bleeding!"

"What?" Pain suddenly registered, radiating from her arm and it was then that she realized that she had blood dripping from the wound closely followed by the sudden throbbing in her arm. She shook her head, trying to fight off the pain. "Don't worry about me. Let's just find your phylactory and get out of here." She would heal it later. Jowan watched her for a moment before walking away. Her jaw tightened when she realized that she was actually feeling low on magic and could feel the chill in the air. Not the time and she didn't particularly want heal herself while she was bleeding.

"Would you destroy yours too?"

"Of course. But mine's already in Denerim and I wouldn't leave. I am sans a phylactory after all."

Jowan paused, looking over his shoulder at his friend. "Why wouldn't you leave? That doesn't make any sense."

He watched the guarded flare in her eyes grow more obvious than it had been. "There are things here for me that I can't leave quite yet."

He opened his mouth to respond when Lily spoke up. "Jowan? Is-Is this it?"

Both mages ran up the stairs to where Lily was staring nervously at a small collection of vials. Tasha shouldered past her and grabbed the parchment tied around the neck. "Yeah. This is yours." She handed it to Jowan who studied the small vial.

"I can't believe this tiny vial stands between me and freedom." There was an odd tone to his voice and Tasha's eyebrows pinched together in worry. "So fragile, so easy just to be rid of it." He held the vial out in front of him. "So easy to end its hold over me." He stood there for a moment, just staring at the vial of his blood.

"Jowan, time. You can contemplate freedom later," she warned, beginning to shiver. Blood dripped down her injured arm but she didn't want to heal it. Not yet. Not with her stores so depleted.

Then he dropped it and the phylactory, his leash the Circle and Chantry held, shattered, splattering his blood over Tasha's. "And I am free."

"Let's go. The sooner we're out of here, the better," Tasha said. There was something off about her friend and it was concerning.

For once, she and Lily were on the same side. "I do not want to stay here a moment longer," the initiate agreed.

* * *

 ** _AN: There's your special chapter in honor of my parents' anniversary. Personally, I think that the Circle stores a lot of sensitive texts that technically would not be allowed by the Chantry and the Templars conveniently forget about it._**


	5. No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

5\. No Good Deed Goes Unpunished

Tasha groaned, coughing as she came to. Slowly her memories returned as did an icy fury that snaked down her back. Jowan. He lied. He attacked her and the first enchanter and Greagoir, plus half a dozen other Templars, and used blood magic. _Blood magic_. Worse, he condemned her to the same fate he would have.

A metallicky sweet taste lingered in her mouth and as soon as she realized that, she reached for her magic to find her stores a little replenished. Someone had put a weak phial of lyrium down her. It was enough to give her the boost she needed to heal her arm. Her lips silently moved as she cast the spell. Her breathing eased as the pain receded.

"Tasha. Tasha. Miss Amell, are you alright?" Irving asked. It took dredging up her not inconsiderable willpower to force her eyes open. Still, she managed it.

"Damn it. Damn it!" she snapped gruffly as her surroundings came into focus. "I should have seen...I should have known something was wrong when I couldn't read him." She met Irving's pale gaze. "This is my fault."

"Yes, it is and you are being taken into custody." Greagoir growled to her right.

That made her sit up in alarm despite the sudden pounding in her head. "Excuse me? I was just following orders."

"And we have no idea how much influence the blood mage may have had over your mind. You need to be kept in isolation and under observation."

Panic burned in her heart. Even though she expected it, actually hearing it sent flutters through her spirit. "What? You can't be serious!"

Greagoir glared at her as she scrambled to her feet. "I am serious. Your actions have made a mockery of the Circle and they have since you arrived here. In fact, I'm only surprised it took the blood mage as long as it did under your influence. You were probably the one who gave him the idea in the first place."

Anger burned cold in her eyes and her fists clenched at her sides. Frost inched away from her feet. Every Templar in the room tensed and suddenly she could feel them coiling, preparing to smite her if she so much as blinked a spell. Gritting her teeth, she backed down, forcing the magic away, though tension still radiated from her body.

"Knight-Commander, if I may." All three of them turned to the approaching Duncan. "I am not only looking for mages to join the king's army. I am also recruiting for the Grey Wardens." Hope flared up so strongly and painfully that Tasha had to clench her jaw to keep from gasping, slicing through the anger. "Irving spoke highly of Tasha, and I would like her to join the Warden ranks."

"What?" Greagoir snapped. "You promised him a new Grey Warden?"

"She has served the Circle well," Irving pointed out. "She would make an excellent Grey Warden."

"Dedication is required of the Grey Wardens. Fighting the darkspawn requires great sacrifice, often the expense of your own life. She has proven that she is willing to make sacrifices for the greater good." Irving watched a dark flicker cross Tasha's eyes and wondered at it.

"I object. You say she operated under your instructions, Irving, but I do not trust her." Greagoir glared at her. "I must investigate this issue and I will not release this mage to the Grey Wardens."

"If the Grey Wardens will have me, I will gladly go." She jerked her chin up mulishly, jaw set as she glared at the Knight-Commander.

"Greagoir, mages are needed. She is needed. Worse things plague this world than blood mages. You know that." Duncan said, lifting an eyebrow. "I take Tasha Amell under my wing and bear all responsibility for her actions."

"Tasha does not deserve a place in the Order." Tasha glared at Greagoir, which he ignored.

"Why? Do we not reward service? She has served the Circle well." Irving interjected. He faced Tasha, eyes serious. "You have an opportunity few even dream of. Do not squander it."

She blinked in delighted disbelief. And then she thought of Cullen. "What is in store for me?" she asked, enthusiasm squashed.

"We must make our way to Ostagar, where the king's army is camped. You will be initiated there. I will explain more when the time comes." Duncan explained.

It didn't seem real but there was something that had her straining for freedom like she hadn't done in years. Slowly, she turned to the First Enchanter. As much as the two had butted heads since she'd come there, he'd helped her learn about her empathy and learn how to actually use it and control it. And now he had helped her leave, something that he knew she'd wanted her entire stay at the Circle. He was giving her freedom. "Thank you for everything, First Enchanter," she said earnestly. She did not hug him.

"Come, your new life awaits." Duncan gripped her arm, sparks flying wildly though weakly. She resisted any efforts to follow him.

"I have people I need to see and say goodbye to," she told him, eyes pleading but firm. He watched her for a moment before nodding. There was a quick gleam of triumph in her grey eyes before she said, "I'll meet you downstairs when I'm done." Without waiting for an answer, she turned and went down to the library. Dennet was down there with Art this time. Both looked up. "Could I talk to Dennet for a moment?" Art watched the black-haired mage curiously.

"Of course."

Dennet followed her to a secluded section of the library, tucked away from any prying eyes and ears. He blinked at her. "Tasha, what's wrong?"

She leaned close, eyes fixed on him with unwavering sternness, an expression he'd rarely seen before on her. "I'm going to tell you something. You can't tell anyone," she murmured.

"I won't say a word. What is it?"

She hesitated before taking a deep breath. "Rebecca has a baby. That's why I've been rooming with her." Dennet's eyes could have fallen out of his head with how much they were bulging. She waited for a moment for him to process that before continuing. "I know you're just an apprentice. But something has happened and I have to leave." Now, his jaw dropped. "I need you to help take care of her. No one will notice an apprentice. You guys tend to be invisible." She paused, thinking. "Well, I wasn't but pretty much every Templar stationed here knows my name and knows I could be trouble. Anyway, she needs someone with her. Get permission from Irving. Whatever. But I need you to help her. Can you do that?"

"What happened? Where are you going?"

"I'm joining the Grey Wardens." Now excitement lit up his eyes and Tasha held up a hand. "Not now. But please. Please do this for me."

"Fine. I'll help as much as I can." A wide grin lit up her face.

"Thank you!" Before he could respond, she was gone.

"What was that about?" Art asked as she went to walk past.

"Nothing." She stopped, looking at him. "Actually, I'd like you to do something. I know I don't have any right or authority to ask for this. But can you keep an eye on Dennet for me and cover for him if he needs it?" He nodded, opening his mouth to say something when she nearly jogged past him and up the stairs.

She knocked softly before entering. Rebecca sat on her bed. She looked up, frowning. "What is it?"

"I'm leaving." The young mother blanched. Raw fear pulsed through her and Tasha fought not to flinch away from it. Rafe wiggled a little in her arms, sensing his mother's panic. Instantly, Tasha wrapped her gift around him, blanketing him in comfort. He settled.

"But, you can't!" Rebecca protested.

"I have to. If I stay here, I'll be put into quarantine and possibly sent to Aeonar, which would do horrible things for my hair," Tasha quipped, trying to bring humor in even though the smile didn't reach her eyes.

"Aeonar? What the hell happened?"

Tasha sighed. "Look, it's a long story." Rebecca just stared at her friend. "Fine, I helped Jowan escape the Circle and it turns out that he's a blood mage. Who knew?"

"Jowan? A bl-blood mage?" Rebecca asked in disbelief.

"Yeah." Tasha nibbled on her lip unconsciously. "I really need to go. Duncan told me to hurry."

She knelt in front of the pair of them and smoothed a slightly shaky hand over Rafe's head. Rebecca didn't notice but Tasha still put in the effort to still the trembling. She gently kissed his forehead. "Be a good boy for your mommy. I'll be back when I can." Then she pressed her magic into his soul, asking him to be quiet and brave. The muscles in her jaw tightened as she stood and walked out.

She was somewhat distracted walking down the hall and didn't notice her surroundings. Her arm was grabbed and she was pulled into a nook hidden from view. Her magic flared and frost blossomed beneath her feet, sparks scattering around them.

"Easy," Cullen murmured. She banked down her temper and her gift. "What is going on?" he asked when she had settled again. "M-My superiors are having a field day and no one will tell me anything."

"So you assume I had something to do with it?" Tasha arched an eyebrow.

"You did have something to do with it. What happened?" He wasn't going to back down and she didn't have to read him to know that he was worried.

"Jowan's a blood mage. I helped him escape the Circle. I've been recruited by the Grey Wardens as my "reward" for being a traitor to one of my best friends. That's about it." Tasha's tone was flat and anger clearly bubbled underneath. Cullen's jaw dropped. She looked up at him. "I really have to go. Duncan is waiting."

She hesitated. Jowan was gone. Anders was in isolation. That left him, the only one of her closest friends that could actually say goodbye.. When he didn't respond to her waiting, a small sigh escaped her. Tasha turned and walked away, every part of her crying out for something, anything. Nothing.

Duncan took one look at her and simply nodded. Greagoir fumed still, and Tasha felt the heat of his anger and frustration as she passed. The Templars guarding the door separating the tower and the outside world were normally at least polite if watchful. Now, they eyed her warily and with barely restrained hostility but they opened the door.

For a moment, it was all Tasha could do to blink in the overwhelmingly bright sunshine until her eyes adjusted. A smile appeared on her face when, despite the heaviness of her heart, excitement began to grow. Her head lifted and she took her first steps outside as a free woman in over a decade.

* * *

 ** _AN_ _: Well, this is sort of late but it's still Friday technically here. I hope y'all enjoy. Let me know what you guys think or any reactions or anything really._**


	6. Many Meetings

6\. Many Meetings

The journey took a little under a week, the time spent with him teaching the mage battle strategies and incredibly basic physical, not magical, combat skills at camp. While they walked, she used magic freely. At first, the tiny ice sculptures were crude and mostly undetailed, and, despite her joy at being free, she kept glancing back over her shoulder, each time flushing in embarrassment. The reaction had been ingrained in her, though. As the days went by the small ice sculptures got a bit more detail. The work wasn't enough to drain her, but the mage was growing stronger by the moment, wells of mana deeper than ever. Soft muscles from a life of ease strengthened and without the Templars breathing down her neck, she began to relax about actually being able to practice her magic. Every night, she would pass out from exhaustion and pain because her body was unused to so much exercise. But she loved it.

So it was that when the two arrived at Ostagar, she was sore, disgusting from the dirt and sweat of travelling on the road, and feeling more alive than she had ever felt in her entire life. The ruins of Ostagar were impressive. Tasha blinked a few times as they approached but she could feel the press of the Fade around them, the tingling sensation growing stronger. For a moment, she relaxed the walls she kept around her empathy and let the emotions of the soldiers wash over her. Excitement and high tension shivered through the atmosphere with an underlying current of acidic fear.

With a sigh more than a little tinged in regret, Tasha replaced the walls around her empathy that kept her from feeling everything everyone else was feeling. And with that, came a loss of something that was as vital to her as her heart. She dimmed a little, shoulders tightening almost imperceptibly.

That was when the two of them were approached by a man in armor that appeared to be made of gold. Actual gold. She held back a snort at how ostentatious he looked. He was flanked by two soldiers that were far less obvious and flaunting than the man in front of them, who had an easy grin on his face.

"Your Majesty?" Duncan asked, eyebrows raised.

The king laughed. Tasha studied the man in front of them curiously, appraisingly, and found him wanting. "It's Cailen. There's no need to be so formal, Duncan. We'll be shedding blood together, after all," he spoke to Duncan familiarly before turning his attention to Tasha, who stiffened under his gaze.

She supposed the man was handsome, any blind idiot could see that. But he did absolutely nothing for her. He was too much flash, too much of a vain peacock strutting around in gold armor that had no business being on a battlefield. He would shine like a beacon, even to darkspawn. Idiot would get himself killed and even without practical experience, she knew that.

"The other Wardens mentioned you had found a promising new recruit. I take it this is she?"

"Yes, this is-"

"I'm Tasha Amell, your Majesty," she said, interrupting Duncan. She dipped her head coolly. She didn't realize until the soldiers next to the king stiffened, Duncan groaned, and Cailen smiled more widely that she was displaying atrocious manners. Jerkily, she bent into an awkward curtsy and held it. She bit back a groan as her overworked muscles strained to hold her in position.

"It's all right. You don't need to curtsy. This isn't an official welcome, just a welcome between friends."

"We aren't friends. Mine are all still back in the tower," she interjected thoughtlessly. Then after a thought, she added, scowling, "Your Majesty."

"Oh, you're a mage? Do you know any good spells that could help me out?" Tasha lifted an eyebrow. The words themselves were innocent, but she could feel the intention beneath them. Against her will, her eyes flicked down his armored body and back up. The king seemed to swell in masculine pride until she gave a snort and turned her face to the side. The movement was slight but noticeable, as was the meaning behind it. King Cailen laughed at her response, amused and attracted all at once.

"No." The word came out firmer than she'd intended when she brought her eyes back to his. Cailen studied her for a moment and Tasha paled slightly, though she held her ground, even as she felt amusement and a little admiration from him. "You will certainly be a gain for the Warden's ranks."

"I intend to be, your Majesty. It's the least I can do for the order that rescued me." Tasha shrugged. Duncan sighed. And Cailen started laughing again. The noise grated on her ears and she forced herself not to wince.

"You're delightful. But I suppose I should be going before Loghain sends out a search party. I suppose I'll see you around." Cailen dipped his head to Duncan before tossing Tasha a wink and striding away, whistling cheerfully. His two guards followed silently.

"Don't say a word. I don't welcome the attention, especially not from the king," she growled at Duncan. "He and I have less than nothing in common and I intend to stay as far away from him as I possibly can. Can you please tell me what we're doing here, so I can start avoiding him?"

"He is the king and-"

"And I need to be polite and respectful because he has just as much power to take my head off as the Templars did," she finished for him with a sigh, though one hand was tightly fisted in her robes.

Duncan watched her for a moment, noting the slump of her shoulders and the tension in her forehead. "We're here to take a stand against the darkspawn," he told her. "If we fail here, then Ferelden will be overrun."

"First and final defence," she murmured, tipping her head back to look at the ruins. As good a place as any, she supposed, for what could end up being a suicide mission. Not that she knew much about fortifications. She turned her head back to Duncan. "How many Wardens do we have?" she asked.

"Not as many as I would like. I've requested that Wardens from Orlais join us but it seems that the king is going to push the attack before they can get here. With that in mind, we should proceed with the Joining without delay."

"Ah, yes. The infamous Joining ritual. You know, if I'd known that I was going to be tossed into yet another trial, I wouldn't have left with you. I'd have just stayed in that awful tower, possibly been killed, and most likely been made Tranquil. Which is fine." At the concerned expression on Duncan's face, she grumbled. "Kidding. I'm kidding. Just trying to lighten the mood.

Duncan sighed. "Find the other recruits and a Warden named Alistair then meet me back at my camp." He strode across the bridge, shaking his head, and left Tasha there slightly baffled.

"You're just going to leave me here? Alone? Without some sort of guard to keep an eye on me and make sure that I don't turn into an abomination or make a deal with a demon and start practicing blood magic? Because that would be the logical step for me considering one of my best friends went there." She stopped, listening for anyone to come up behind her and smite her. Nothing. A grin slowly spread on her face. Footsteps came from behind her but she didn't twitch. They weren't the heavy clank of Templar plate, but more of a softer clink and she watched as the soldier walked past. He gave her a curious glance but otherwise ignored her.

For the first time in a decade, she didn't have her every move watched. She rolled her shoulders, loosening the tension that had spawned there, and proceeded to follow Duncan's path across the bridge. A helpful soldier stationed on the other side, pock-faced and almost as young as she, gave her directions around the king's camp. She smiled, watching him blush and stammer as she thanked him, genuinely appreciating the help. And then she stopped, studying the camp in front of her.

There was a strange flicker, which reminded her of Duncan, that had Tasha swiveling curiously. "That's weird," she muttered, following the feeling, tracking it to the kennels. _Worry. Strain._ "Is something wrong?" she asked the kennel master, wrinkling her nose at the strong smell of dog, wet or otherwise.

"Would you mind muzzling this hound?"

Tasha blinked. "What makes you think I know how to do that? And why do you need to muzzle him?"

The kennel master pinched the bridge of his nose. _Regret._ "His owner died during the last fight with the darkspawn. Poor hound swallowed too much blood. And you're a Grey Warden, or you will be soon. If he bites you, all he'll leave is a few tooth marks."

"How do you know that I'm going to be a Warden? And ow!" she complained preemptively, horrified. "Tooth marks? Really?"

The kennel master eyed her, clearly trying to figure out how she had managed to make it into the Wardens. "Duncan sent a letter-"

"And everyone in this upper camp knows about me. Lovely." She sighed. "You do realize that I honestly have no idea how to muzzle a dog."

The kennel master grumbled something and quickly explained the straps and buckles. She tried to hold all the steps mentally but it all sounded so complicated that she just gave up.

Finally he asked, "You got all that?" Tasha nodded in understanding though it couldn't have been farther from the truth.

So she slipped inside the kennel, shying away from the massive mabari. He was whining softly, the noise morphing into a huffing growl followed by a weak flicker of irritation almost masked by the pain of sickness. Her eyebrows shot up to her hairline. No dog could possibly be that smart. "Please don't bite me," she muttered under her breath as she approached the dog. If she didn't know any better, she'd have sworn the dog gave a snort in response.

Carefully, she slipped the muzzle over his head and, trying to remember what the kennel master had told her as well as trying to keep her fingers away from the mabari's mouth. She fumbled over one of the straps, unsure what to do with it when slender hands plucked the strap from hers and deftly finished tying it even as the dog swung his head around, pushing the new person away. Tasha looked up to see a young woman, face streaked in mud and leaves, standing up and stepping away from the softly growling dog.

"You looked like you needed help," she said softly. Tasha couldn't tell exactly what the young woman looked like, only that her black hair was braided back and she had clear grey eyes of precisely the same shade as her own. She was dressed in well-maintained, though worn, leather armor with two large daggers strapped to either hip. Somehow, Tasha had the impression that smaller ones were hidden on her person. "My name's Felina."

"Tasha. How did you know how to do that?" the mage asked curiously.

"One of my sisters has a mabari and he doesn't like strangers." Felina shrugged.

It was then that Tasha noticed the faint thrum that was absent from every person she had met so far that she had been surrounded by in the tower. Her eyebrows went up and her head tipped to the side. "Have you been around mages a lot?"

"My sisters are mages. You're one, right? You're wearing Circle robes."

She nodded. "Just got released by the Circle on good behavior." The amusement glinting in her eyes directly contradicted her statement. "Actually, the reason why I left was the complete opposite of good behavior. But I'm here now as a proper Grey Warden recruit."

Felina's eyes lit up. "So you're the one the Wardens were talking about. It's nice to meet you." She glanced behind her. _Frustration_. "I need to go. I have to go report to Loghain on the reconnaissance mission. Hopefully I'll see you later."

With a cheerful grin, she bounced off, braid swinging behind her.

"You didn't listen, did you?" the kennel master asked when she left the pen, shutting the gate behind her.

"I tried," she admitted with a sheepish smile. "But you have to understand, the most complicated thing I've ever had to put together are my robes, and they're just slip over my head for the most part. Muzzles are definitely more complicated."

The kennel master eyed her speculatively. "Say, are you heading out into the Wilds any time soon?"

"I might be. Why?"

"There's an herb. And if you're a mage, then you could probably tell that he's sick. He swallowed too much darkspawn blood in the last battle and there's an herb that might help." He watched the mage frown. "He'll die if he won't get it. If you're going into the Wilds, would you mind keeping a look out for it?"

"What does it look like?"

"White with a red center."

"Alright. If I see it, then I'll pick some." She glanced at the mabari and felt a yank at her heart. The dog whined softly, as though he understood. "I promise." With one last look at the mabari, she walked away.

Something tugged at her awareness and she sighed. But she tracked it regardless. The closer she got, the more she realized that she almost recognized it. It was oily and vague, a cover up. It was what Duncan and the dog both felt like, which made Tasha stop, brows furrowed, when she realized the fact.

There was a connection between the dog who would die from swallowing darkspawn blood and Duncan, a Grey Warden. Since he was the only one she'd met, she had to assume that the reason he'd felt like that was because of his being a Grey Warden. Of course, he was also the only person she'd ever met that felt like that. If she could find the other Wardens, she could test the theory that they all felt the same.

She didn't notice the older mage approach until she tapped Tasha on the shoulder. Sparks skittered reflexively and frost formed around her feet as Tasha flinched back. "Well, well, what are you doing here?" Senior Enchanter Wynne from the Ferelden Circle asked with a slight smile, though her dark eyes were concerned.

There was a twitch in her jaw as Tasha turned to her. "Hello, Wynne."

"What are you doing out of the tower?" Wynne asked. "I hadn't heard that we were getting more mages, and especially not ones as young as you."

Tasha's temper flared, but was settled down quickly. "I suppose you haven't heard. It's probably all over the Circle by now so you'll just find out when you get back anyway." She huffed out a sigh that bordered on a bitter laugh. "Turns out Jowan was a blood mage and I may have helped him escape. Duncan recruited me into the Grey Wardens before Greagoir could arrest me and hold me for observation, questioning, and who knows what else."

Wynne's jaw dropped. "Jowan?"

"Yeah. Oh, and the reason he wanted to leave the Circle was not in fact because he was, is, a blood mage, but because he started seeing an initiate of the Chantry and wanted to run away with her. Last I knew, she was being sent to Aeonar." Tasha held back a huff of irritation, even as she felt a thrum of pity for Lily. Wynne shook her head and in a very rare occasion, the two mages agreed with each other.

"How are you doing, dear?" Wynne asked gently. Tasha could feel her genuine concern and that was the only reason she didn't snap at her.

"I'm free, which is exactly what I've always wanted." She gave a shrug, hiding the jolt of guilt and anger that welled up.

"I see. Just," Wynne hesitated, "be careful." Tasha watched her teacher personna slide forward again. "I'm sure Duncan had more for you to do than simply talk to me. Go on."

The dismissal rankled the young mage but she accepted it. Instead, she turned and began to walk away. She hadn't gone more than a few steps, when something else battered against her shields. She spun, alarmed, and met the hard green eyes of the elven woman watching her. The bold lines that stood out against her tanned skin swept along her forehead and cheekbones marked her as only one thing: Dalish.

* * *

 ** _AN: Well, my darlings, we are at Ostagar. As always, since I seem to do a terrible job at this, thanks to my beta, asteracea. She's fantastic and has amazing work. Go check her stuff out. You will not be disappointed._**

 ** _Tasha is a delight. If there's something you'd like to see from her, let me know. Also, let me know what you think of this chapter or of the story so far, if there's something I can work on._**

 ** _I'd also like to give a shoutout to crawler123. Hope you like this chapter._**


	7. An Elf Among Shems

7\. An Elf Among Shems

Medb Mahariel held back a grimace of pain as she slipped back into camp, her catch slung over her shoulders. She dropped the carcasses off at the kitchens, ignoring the suspicious looks from the shems. She was getting used to them, but the memory of laughter she would never hear again tore open the still bleeding wound in her heart.

Her throat closed up in grief, but her response was to curl her fingers tighter around the grip of one of the daggers at her waist. The shems were undeserving of seeing her grief. Pain rippled through her, fuzzing out her emotions, and all she wanted to do was run back to the open arms of her clan and never leave. As soon as she got the cure, she'd be gone. Her clan needed her, especially if there were darkspawn.

Speaking of which, Duncan should be returning soon along with another recruit, according to the Wardens down in the main camp. They were the only ones who didn't treat her as an inferior, for the most part, so she tried to spend as much time with them as possible when she wasn't out in the Wilds. The only thing she didn't quite understand was the glances tossed her way. They alternated between pity and knowing, neither of which she appreciated.

So lost in her thoughts was she that Medb didn't notice the cages until she walked into one. A muffled curse in elvish escaped her lips before looking up. The lines on her forehead disturbed the clear lines of her vallaslin. There was a shem in that cage and, more interestingly, he only seemed to be wearing his small clothes. Her lip curled.

"I don't suppose you're here to sentence me are you?" the shem asked dryly. There was some hope in his eyes, though. She frowned again.

"What are you talking about?" she asked. The hope faded and the shem sighed.

"Apparently not. Oh, well. Here's to hoping."

Medb watched him settle back down in resignation. "No, I genuinely do not understand. Why would the shems lock one of their own in a cage?" Her eyebrows inched toward each other.

"Oh, you're a Dalish, aren't you? I guess you wouldn't understand, then."

Anger bubbled up. "Explain or I will walk away."

"They think I'm a deserter just because they caught me sneaking around camp after dark."

Her green eyes met the shem's. "What is a deserter?"

"You don't know?"

She shook her head. "We don't have a word for that in the clans, I don't think. And I don't think I've ever heard that word in common."

The shem studied her long enough that she felt the tips of her ears turn pink. "That must be nice. A deserter is someone who leaves his post in the army."

Horror fluttered through her, weaker than she would have expected. Leaving a post could mean the difference between life and death for the clan. And shems did that willingly? It was common enough that they needed a word for it?

Her eyes narrowed and she took a step closer to the caged shem, trying not to wrinkle her nose at the stench. "Are you?" she growled. Pain lanced through her, but she merely tightened her grip on the dagger, shrugging it off.

"No!" the shem denied, shaking his head. "Look, I got this key off of one of the Tranquil. I can't use it from here."

"Why wasn't it found when…" she trailed off, waving her hand vaguely.

"I swallowed it. But it's, uh, come back into my possession, so to speak." The shem smiled sheepishly, ducking his shoulders.

Medb did wrinkle her nose at that. "That is disgusting."

"Yeah, well." His eyes suddenly brightened. "I'll give it to you if you'll do something for me."

That was something she understood. "What do you want?" she asked cautiously.

"I haven't been fed in ages. If you could get me food and water, I'd give you the key."

Outrage flared in her eyes and her whole body stiffened, but emotionally, her reaction was muted. Numbed. "Why haven't they fed you?"

"I suspect no one's thought of it with the battles and such."

Without another word, Medb turned and saw a beefier shem in armor standing nearby. He looked bored. Guard. Only a shem could look bored while on guard duty for another shem, especially one who was suffering like the caged one was. She stalked up to him, every muscle tense. Pain made her steps falter briefly but she simply tightened her hold on the dagger.

"Why hasn't that shem been fed?" she demanded, jabbing the guard in the chest with a finger. He looked down at her in disdain. She could almost watch the words "knife-eared bitch" flit across his eyes.

"What's it to you?" the guard asked with a sneer.

Her movements were slower than she'd like, slower by far than they were before the mirror, but he was still startled by the long curved dagger that barely trembled as it was held to his throat. She willed her eyes to remain away from the blade. The shems didn't deserve her grief. "You will give me the rest of your meal that you put away. And don't tell me that you don't have any left. I can smell it. Now, you have two options. Either you can give me your dinner without a fuss or I will cut your throat and I will take it from your twitching body. Your choice."

"You can't kill me, knife-eared whore," the guard growled, though he was paler than he had been.

Medb leaned in close, unblinkingly staring at him. The shem swallowed nervously despite his clear desire to withstand the threat. "I'm a Grey Warden, shem. You can't touch me." That was possibly a lie; she wasn't entirely sure what being a Warden meant but she would use whatever she needed to do to get what she wanted. The shem must have found something in her face because he paled further and without another word, he retrieved the bundle of food from his nearby pack as well as a partially filled water skin. "Wise decision," she said unsmilingly.

"Psycho bitch," he muttered under his breath as she turned away. Had she been human, she wouldn't have heard him. As it was, a jolt of pain slammed down her back just as the words registered. She stopped in her tracks and gripped the dagger tighter as she sheathed it before moving on her way.

Her gait had changed slightly when she went back to the caged shem; a sharp tension that was the product of trying to fight off pain and show that she wasn't affected.

She slid the food and water skin into the cage. The shem's eyes lit up with almost blinding gratitude and it made Medb feel vaguely uncomfortable. "At least if I'm going to hang, there will be some weight on the end of the rope," he said cheerfully before pulling apart a chunk of bread. "Oh, before I forget," he said, mouth full. He picked the key up from where it had been at the edge of the cage and offered it to her. The Dalish elf gingerly plucked it from his hand and tucked it away.

"How can you joke about dying like that?" she asked, trying not to think of...him, and looking up at the shem with a puzzled expression.

"It helps with knowing what's going to happen. Otherwise I'm fairly certain that I would go mad locked up in here all day."

Medb blinked slowly. "You're all right for a shem," she said slowly. "And I hope you are released, if you did not desert. Dareth shiral."

She turned and strode away, passing the shemlin guard and just the sight of him had her scowling again. Pain forced her to stop to catch her breath, and that was when a young woman turned and met her eyes. Despite the dirt and distance, Medb could see that she was beautiful, but there was something different about her.

The shem came over moments later, grey eyes curious and bright. "You're Dalish, aren't you?"

Medb blinked. "What?"

"You're Dalish. I can tell by your facial tattoos. What are they called?"

"Vallaslin." Medb was so startled that she opened her mouth to say something, but nothing came out so she closed it.

"That's the word. Sorry, normally I'm pretty good at remembering what I read. I'm from the Circle, which doesn't exactly mean anything now. I was recruited into the Grey Wardens."

When she stopped to inhale, Medb asked quickly, "Are you normally like this?"

That gave the woman pause before she forced herself to exhale. "No," she admitted sheepishly. "This usually only happens when I'm writing a paper. I'm sorry, I really am. I didn't mean to introduce myself this way." Pink tinged her cheekbones, making the woman more stunning than she had been before. For a shem.

"You haven't introduced yourself," Medb pointed out with a twitch of her lips though the amusement she felt was dull, muted.

"Oh, sorry. Got carried away. I'm Tasha Amell, former member of the Fereldan branch of the Circle of Magi, currently a Grey Warden. Or at least a Grey Warden recruit." She shrugged, then winced.

Medb digested those words for a moment before carefully replying, "You may call me Medb."

"What's your clan name? Unless you don't want to tell me. From what I've read, I understand that the Dalish are rather secretive. But you seem all right. I never believed the stories anyway. I'm sorry," Tasha suddenly apologized again, interrupting her own tirade. "I'm babbling. I try not to do that but it's just so fascinating being around someone who can actually answer my questions about your culture because as much as you can learn from books they're still finite. They don't breathe the experiences, only record them."

Medb surprised both of them by bursting into such loud, pealing laughter that people around them actually stopped and turned. "It's fine. I'm from clan Sabrae, but my family name is Mahariel." Pain lanced through her and she began coughing. Tasha instantly looked concerned. With a raised eyebrow, asking permission which she got from a nod, she carefully placed her hand on the exposed skin of the elf's upper arm. Then she closed her eyes.

A slightly intrusive cold radiated from the slight touch and Medb had to fight the urge to squirm away from the unfamiliar sensation.

"Relax," Tasha murmured, eyebrows pinching together. "I'm pretty much a terrible healer. I don't have the finesse for much more than surface wounds. But I can handle fevers, part of the ice thing, and you have a raging one." She opened her eyes in concern. "Are you all right?" she asked.

Medb almost said she was fine. Almost. But there was something about Tasha's being that demanded to be trusted. Besides, it didn't seem like Tasha would find her weak. "No." She took a deep breath. "The reason I had to leave my clan, which was not entirely my choice, was because I became sick with an illness that apparently can only be cured by becoming a Grey Warden." She looked down at the mud that had started to dry on the halla hide boots she had received upon leaving. "I wouldn't have left but it was this or die and I can't very well help my clan if I'm dead, can I?" She looked up to see Tasha watching her with understanding gleaming in her grey eyes.

"Duncan saved me too," she said softly, lips twitching though Medb was startled to see a flash of hurt anger across the mage's face though it vanished fast enough that Medb wondered if she'd actually seen it. "Not in entirely the same way. But my fate could have been worse than death. How long have you been here?" Tasha asked suddenly.

"Almost two weeks. Why?" Her back muscles tensed to the point of a cramp before relaxing.

"I'm supposed to finding the other recruits, which I assume includes you, and some Warden named Alistair. From what I've heard, and Duncan's general worry, there aren't a lot of Wardens in Fereldan and they probably all know each other."

"Alistair?" Ah, the blond shem. "I know who he is."

Tasha grinned, eyes gleaming brightly. "Excellent. You wouldn't happen to know where," she paused, brow furrowing before her expression cleared, "Jory and Daveth are, by any chance? Apparently, they're the other recruits."

"I can take you to them if you want." She left off the fact that neither particularly liked her, Jory far more than the shifty shem from Denerim, when the mage nodded gratefully. With a mostly concealed wince, Medb bent to pick up her pack and shrugged it onto her back with careful, practiced ease.

* * *

 ** _AN: I'm a fan of Medb. She was not a part of the original plan and she surprises me more frequently than Tasha does.  
Anyway, Alistair definitely shows up next chapter.  
_** ** _Oh, and huge thanks to helenget. Not that I write this for reviews or favorites or follows or anything, but I still smile like an idiot when I get one of those. You're a champ._**


	8. Meet the Wardens

8\. Meet the Wardens

Tasha eyed the Dalish elf in front of her thoughtfully. Even with her shields up, she could still sense the amount of pain Medb was in quite acutely and she hadn't been lying when she mentioned the fever. She looked ill. There was a strong spirit in the elf, but whatever was wrong with her was killing it, or at the very least muting it. Tasha would have put a sovereign (despite her lack of any actual money) on it being the former.

She also hadn't been lying when she said she was fascinated by the Dalish but she wanted some sort of response to come up past whatever was blocking Medb. She'd gotten it and now she was mulling over the similarities between her and Duncan. Both were difficult to read, among the hardest she'd ever encountered - and that included Jowan with his weird block. Although when she stopped to think about it, his was probably blood magic related. But neither Duncan nor Medb were mages and even though their emotional barriers were similar, whatever the difference was between the two was killing Medb. Most likely.

She shifted her thoughts to the back of her mind to be mulled over at a later time when Medb stopped in front of a rather handsome man.

"And who might you be?" he asked, roguish brown eyes twinkling. He was attracted to her, possibly Medb as well, and she didn't even need her gift to know that.

"My name is Tasha. Tasha Amell. I'm the newest recruit, I suppose." She smiled as the interest in his eyes grew even as a pang shook her chest.

"You're the newest recruit then? Not what I thought you'd be."

"And what did you think I'd be?"

"Not a woman. Yet, here you are." At Tasha's raised eyebrow and Medb's snort of disgust, he hastened to explain himself. "Me and ser knight took bets." Tasha glanced at Medb, who mouthed 'Jory'. "The name's Daveth and I'm glad you're finally here. I was beginning to wonder if they'd cooked up this ritual for our benefit."

Tasha perked up visibly, the interest flaring brightly in her eyes. "Ritual? What ritual?"

"Dunno. But whatever it is, the other Wardens won't say a word about it. And believe me, I tried."

"You've met the other Wardens then?"

"Only briefly. But I was sneaking around camp last night and I overheard two of them talking. I think they intend to send us into the Wilds." Daveth couldn't hide the fear that crept into his eyes. Tasha mentally nibbled on the information while Medb scoffed.

"The Wilds? No wilderness is worth that fear." Daveth turned his attention to the Dalish and Tasha was surprised by the flare of wariness from him. He didn't trust her. One glance at Medb told the mage that the feeling was mutual.

"There are monsters and witches in the Wilds. Not to mention darkspawn too," Daveth countered.

Smiling with a confidence she didn't feel at the word "darkspawn," Tasha simply cooled the air around them and let snow fall. Daveth paled, suddenly understanding. Medb cocked an eyebrow - though why, Tasha couldn't tell. "Let me worry about any witches," she said, letting herself sound more confident than she was feeling. She wasn't entirely sure that she could use her magic on a person for combat but let him think what he wanted.

"You're a…" Daveth cut off, seemingly unable to voice the word. She sighed.

"Daveth, I've spent most of my life as a mage. I haven't attacked anyone with my magic without excellent reason and I've never been possessed by a demon. I've passed my Harrowing, which I'm not actually allowed to talk about so don't ask for any details. You can trust me to be safe to be around." She smiled, trying to ease his fears, although if his reaction was normal, she should probably learn some sort of hand to hand combat to disguise her magic if she had to. "Besides, you've met Templars, haven't you?" He cautiously nodded, the fear softening a little though it was still dagger sharp. "There were loads in the tower. Do you honestly think they'd have let me out if I was that much of a danger?" She chose to leave out certain details of her recruitment. _Amusement_. The emotion was soft and vague but definitely present in the Dalish hunter at her side.

"I suppose not."

Tasha linked arms with him and beamed at him, though she was startled to realize that he was almost the same height she was. The man had seemed taller. "I'm glad. I'll watch your back if you watch mine. Mages make excellent pincushions and I'd rather not be turned into one," she quipped, unable to help herself.

"Oh, I'll watch your back," Daveth chuckled. Tasha relaxed as the tension eased.

"Charmer, aren't you?"

"At your service." He bowed almost mockingly but she was certain that was not the intention. "I suppose if you're here I should probably head over to Duncan." As he walked off, Tasha's shoulders slumped.

"You handled him well," Medb commented quietly.

"I know his type," the mage replied dryly. Then she closed her eyes. "I knew, at least in theory, that mages were hated. But I thought that everything inside the tower was exaggerated." She opened her eyes and there was a brief vulnerability that vanished quickly. "I suppose I shouldn't be showing off what I can do unless I know they'll react well, huh?"

Medb shrugged, hissing in a breath as a jolt of pain went through her. "At least you can hide. If you wanted to. Everyone makes assumptions about me because of the shape of my ears and the tattoos on my face. It's not right." There was a deep bitterness in her voice, strong enough that it startled Tasha by how clearly she could feel it.

"It's not fair," Tasha agreed softly, looking at her companion with new eyes. "We shouldn't have to hide who we are just because other people might disapprove."

Medb watched her for a few moments before she nodded. "You're all right for a shem. You seem to understand what most don't and you seem honorable."

That description made Tasha flinch as the memory of what had happened to Jowan slammed back into her mind. Medb didn't notice. "Yeah, well, you'll probably want to throw me off the top of a tower by the time you actually get to know me."

Medb shook her head. "Nonsense." Then her green eyes darkened and she scowled. "You should go meet Jory. He's not nearly as," she searched for the word, "friendly as Daveth is."

Tasha lifted an eyebrow. "Not friendly as in how exactly?"

"You'll see," came the cryptic reply.

Sure enough, within moments of meeting, Tasha wanted to set the man on fire never mind that she couldn't actually do that with her magic or strangle him, which was much more likely. He managed to insult her intelligence, insult Medb (who was visibly restraining herself and speaking as little as she possibly could), and prove himself to be completely magic phobic. All in almost the same breath.

"Duncan," she growled, finally unable to hold her temper anymore. "You're supposed to go find him." Jory didn't notice the frost at her feet. If he had, he probably would have gone crying to the Templars, and that would have just been a bloody mess. Instead, he nodded and walked off, gait and bearing screaming soldier. She waited until he was out of earshot before turning to Medb incredulously.

"I know," Medb said in answer to the expression on the mage's face. "He was far worse to me. Actually told me to bring his armor to the blacksmith for repairs. When I told him that would never happen and I was a recruit same as him and he could carry his own armor, he told me he was surprised that elves were allowed to join."

Anger flared in Tasha's eyes and the frost at her feet thickened. Small icicles formed. "How did you respond?"

"I put an arrow into the tree next to his head and walked off. I've avoided him since."

"I'm sorry that you had to see him again."

"I'm used to it. Shems aren't known for their kind treatment of elves, especially those of us who refuse to submit." She lifted her chin, faint defiance gleaming in her eyes.

"If it makes you feel any better, I think the Chantry's a load of horseshit." Medb's slender ears twitched in surprise, the first response that wasn't slow building. "I'm serious. A religion like that should inspire people to be better than they are and shouldn't be used as an excuse for violence, subjugation, or abuse."

"You mean to mages."

Tasha looked her dead in the eyes, stung a little by the other recruit's lack of faith in her, though she didn't blame her for it. "And elves. And anyone who has ever faced persecution by the Chantry just because of something that they couldn't control."

Medb blinked slowly. "Didn't you need to go find Alistair?"

Tasha sighed. "I suppose so. Well, lead the way, O Dangerous One." Medb paused and turned to the other recruit, who watched her stoically before cracking a grin. "Too soon?" she asked.

"Let's just go." As it was, Alistair - or at least who Tasha assumed was Alistair since that was where Medb had led her - was currently arguing with a mage. Senior Enchanter Brennlan, to be exact. His grumpiness hadn't improved upon being able to leave the tower, however temporarily, but the Warden (and Tasha knew that as surely as she knew her own name because he had a remarkably similar barrier up around to the one that Duncan did) handled him better than she'd ever been able to.

"Get out of my way," he snarled as he stalked past. Medb bristled, possibly seeing his behavior as a response to her ears. Tasha, on the other hand, sensed the exact moment that the Warden noticed them because even through that shield, she caught a flutter of interest and curiosity, though neither were necessarily sexual. Which was a bit refreshing for Tasha after the king and Daveth. She turned her head just as he realized Medb was there too. His reaction fascinated Tasha; it had been years since she'd dealt with anyone who didn't guard their emotions as fiercely as dragons were said to guard their treasure.

"One good thing about the Blight is how it brings people together," he said, smiling though it looked a bit forced and his hazel eyes were wary.

Tasha blinked at him. "You are a very strange man," she said without thinking, then clapped a hand over her mouth. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment as did the backs of her shoulders under her robes.

He looked at her for just a moment before bursting into laughter. It was loud and honest and Maker strike her down if it wasn't the loveliest sound she'd ever heard. The heat increased in her cheeks as soon as she had that thought. "You're not the first person to tell me that, although you're certainly the prettiest." The tips of his ears pinked as he realized what he said but otherwise didn't retract the comment, possibly hoping that she'd ignore it.

"Hmmm," she coughed, trying to get herself back under control. "So, uh, what was that about?" she asked, jerking her head toward where Brennlan had left, though part of her attention was still on trying to figure out why Alistair felt familiar. There was something about him that was distinct and separate from the shield.

"With the mage? Oh, the Grand Cleric wanted me to deliver a message and the mage picked up on the intended insult. As I'm sure he was supposed to." Alistair shook his head, looking distinctly uncomfortable. Tasha blinked, wondering why.

"Why would delivering a message be an insult?" Medb asked curiously.

"Because I received training as a Templar before I joined the Wardens," he answered with a careless shrug, as though the answer didn't particularly matter. To Medb, a Dalish elf outside of the Chantry who did not have magic, it wouldn't have. To the other recruit there, it did. Tasha physically recoiled, the blood draining from her face and the breath hissing out between her teeth. Her magic flared, poised, ready to strike if he so much as twitched in her direction. "Why, are you a mage?" he asked, brow pinching together, not quite understanding the reaction from the black-haired woman with the stormy grey eyes. The whiteness of her face only served to make her eyes look darker, half wild.

Medb glanced between the two of them, assessing. "Do you have a problem with magic?" she growled, taking a step forward so the taller human woman could scuttle behind her if she chose; she did. His eyes flicked to the mage who was staring at him coldly, warily. But underneath, he could see the fear that was only ever in mages surrounded by Templars, and in ones who had been mistreated. Then he understood the strange slide across his skin. Her magic. Yet he didn't feel threatened. Duncan knew about him and Duncan had sent her to him. So he was most likely safe. Hopefully.

"No, not at all. I just like knowing my chances of being turned into a frog. Nervous mages make me nervous and my background tends to make mages nervous. I don't really want to be turned into a frog." Tasha watched him as he smiled, trying to put her at ease. The attempt was not lost on her and she tentatively returned it, though the expression felt stiff, unnatural.

"You do realize that most mages can't turn people into frogs, right?" The look of complete astonishment on his face would have concerned her had she not felt a flicker of bright laugher from him.

"You mean the Chantry's been lying to me? Next thing I know, you'll be telling me that mages aren't just going to spontaneously turn into abominations." That startled laughter out of Tasha and the Warden looked entirely too pleased with himself. Then his eyes widened. "Wait, I do know who you are. If you're a mage, and not being followed by a helpful Templar bodyguard, that means you're the mage that Duncan recruited from the Circle. Plus, you're with Medb." He turned to the Dalish. "I'm surprised you're talking to her. I didn't get the impression you liked humans."

Medb stiffened. "I shouldn't have spoken to you that way. I wasn't thinking," she told him quietly. Tasha twitched in her direction as pain spiked down the elf's back, but she didn't react. There was a strange emotion akin to pity in his eyes, though the emotion didn't seem strong enough to break through so she could actually feel it.

"You're forgiven," he said, voice just as soft.

Medb slowly blinked, then looked over at her mage friend. "This is Tasha Amell."

"Right, that was the name. You know, it just occurred to me there aren't many women in the Wardens. I wonder why that is." He actually had a thoughtful expression on his face.

"Oh, you want more women in the Wardens, do you?" Tasha asked with an arched eyebrow.

"Would that be so terrible?" he mused. He refocused only when Tasha made a strangled sound as she choked back her laughter. "Not that I'm some drooling lecher or anything. Please stop looking at me like that." That did it. Tasha, unable to control her laughter anymore, doubled over. It took a few moments before she finally quieted. He stared at her.

"And you were a Templar? Andraste's flaming knickers, shame there wasn't one like you in the tower. I'd have been a model citizen between you and Cul-" she choked on the name, laughter dying instantly.

"Well, I wasn't a full Templar. Never took the vows. But at the risk of sounding even more like an idiot than I usually do, have either of you ever seen darkspawn before?" The Warden shuffled his feet with the sound of chinking armor.

The mage shook her head mutely, wanting to just curl up and cry. Until a slippery flash of anger, darker than anything she'd ever felt before had her jerking her head around to Medb, who was staring at the (former) Templar with undisguised venom. "Yes," she hissed.

Alistair froze briefly. "Oh, all-all right. Sorry." He smiled again, sheepishly.

There was silence for a few moments. Then "So, we should probably get back to Duncan," Tasha said. Her voice was calm, but one of her hands had tightened on her robes to hide the mild shaking. There was too much pressing against her shields, more than she'd felt in a long time.

"Right. Have any questions, feel free to ask." There was a hesitation from Alistair that had Tasha narrowing her eyes at him before heading off. The two recruits fell into line behind him.

As they passed a Tranquil, Medb's head turned to study him. "Huh."

Tasha followed her eyes, muscles tensing as her empathy brushed against him. _Emptiness_. "What?"

"Nothing." Tasha lifted an eyebrow and gently nudged Medb's shoulder, not realizing until after she did it that she didn't know how the other recruit would react. The elf only sighed. "I got a key that I think opens that chest."

"Where'd you get the key?"

Medb was quiet before giving a weak sounding snicker. "You don't want to know. Trust me."

Tasha smiled, pleased that she could feel a little of the disgust. People that weren't pressing their emotions into her felt unnatural after so many years of having emotions constantly there. Then they reached Duncan, and she curiously glanced between the two Wardens and Medb. There was something distinctly similar about their lack of touchable emotions and the shields around them. She completely forgot to actually listen to Duncan as she started to puzzle it out.

* * *

 ** _AN: Aaaaaaaaand there's Tasha back. And Alistair. And the other recruits. Which is cool. Plus, I just need Tasha to let me know why she's so wiggy about Templars. I mean, other than the usual. Anyway... Next week, we get to take our first wander into the Wilds. And Tasha gets a little emotional._**

 ** _As always, a huge thank you to my beta, asteracea._**

 ** _And I'd like to give a shout out to LadyAliera. You're cool and thank you for that, by the way._**


	9. All The World's A Stage

9\. All The World's A Stage

"I hate swamps," Tasha growled under her breath. Only Medb was close enough to hear, and a few seconds later came a snort of amusement. The delay was beginning to worry Tasha as did the realization that the flashes of pain, noticeable even without her empathy, were coming at a faster rate.

"I prefer forests myself. I don't have to wear shoes then," she replied.

"Is that a Dalish thing?"

A heartbeat passed, then Medb shrugged. "You shems seem to appreciate shoes. I don't understand the appeal." The brief hesitations were getting more frequent. Tasha flashed out a hand to grab Medb's upper arm.

Quick as a snake, the elf twisted in the grip. "I can do something about the pain," Tasha muttered under her breath so the men wouldn't hear. They hadn't even noticed the pair had stopped.

Medb's eyes were guarded and wary. "Who says I'm in pain?" she asked suspiciously.

Tasha decided that honesty, or as much as she could manage without explaining her empathy, was probably the best policy. "I have some healing skills and I can feel it. I can help a little, I promise."

A battle flickered in the elf's green eyes before she nodded slowly. Tasha smiled comfortingly. "Okay. This is going to feel a little weird. But you're probably used to your Keeper's magic and I was Circle trained, so there will probably be a difference, although magic is all pretty much the same from here to- sorry, I'm babbling again." Tasha neatly slid her magic into what she figured was Medb's soul and promptly felt ill. It had the same "flavor" as Duncan and Alistair's shields, so likely originating from the same place, but whatever it was that strengthened the two Wardens was killing the elf.

"I know I'm dying," Medb said dully, though there was a flicker of fight in her eyes. "That's why I came here. Duncan said the Joining would heal this sickness. The Keeper kept me alive when I first got sick but…" she trailed off.

Tasha frowned, still trying to be delicate in her probing though she was painfully aware that she could never be considered delicate, especially not with healing. "No offense to your Keeper, but I have an advantage she doesn't."

"What?"

Combining a healing spell and a cleansing rune wasn't something she'd ever practiced, but she figured it was possible theoretically. The magic wasn't even the challenging part; that belonged to not screwing something up. With more care than she'd ever used in her life, she pulled her empathy into the mix and "healed" a cleansing rune onto Medb's soul.

The shock was instant and she staggered from the amount of mana it took. Medb shot out a hand to steady her. _Finally_ , Alistair noticed their lagging, likely due to Tasha's use of magic, and jogged back. His armor clinked heavily though he didn't seem too burdened by the weight, another difference between his mail and the Templars' plate. His concern was noticeable but clearer than the mage had felt from the Warden since she'd met him. And he was _loud_. She recoiled a bit, trying to compensate for the sudden drain to her magic and Medb instantly stepped between the two.

"Are you all right?" he asked, staying a healthy distance from the elf, who stood with every muscle tensed to spring if he threatened Tasha in any way.

"Fine, just give me a moment." She started coughing as pain began to burn its way up her spine.

"Are you sure? Because your magic-"

Suddenly Tasha's temper snapped and ice exploded along the ground, crackling, forming over his metal booted feet and inching beyond.

Startled, Tasha let out a squeak, wrenching control back from her body, eyes shutting and every muscle braced. The ice receded. Still, there was no smite coming from the Warden, even though she could feel his fear and unease slicing through the shield over him. "I'm sorry," she said, voice tiny and eyes opening wide. Medb relaxed her stance though she was clearly still defensive. "I don't know what that was."

"Jory, Daveth, would you mind if I talk to these two privately? Alistair asked quietly, warm hazel eyes not leaving the mage's. They scuttled out of earshot. He waited a few more seconds before asking, "What was that?" _Controlled. Cautious._

As Medb realized he wasn't just going to attack and he was actually going to talk, she straightened and stepped back so she was beside Tasha. "Medb is sick. I thought I'd be able to help her a little. I got training as a healer in the Circle." The mage dropped her gaze to his nose. They were close enough that she could see a small spattering of light freckles gracing it.

"So what happened?"

Tasha's jaw twitched. She didn't want to tell him about her magic. "I don't know," she said, the answer somewhat honest.

"Whatever she did, it helped," Medb spoke up, green eyes clear again. "The pain isn't nearly what it was and I can think again."

"I wasn't expecting the toll it would take on my magic," the mage explained, eyes flicking up to meet his before they went right back down to the tip of his nose. "I've never done anything that massive in one dose before. And then...I don't know. But you asking about my magic instead of me...Maferath's limp sword, it was like being back in the Circle and I never want to be chained like that again, where I'm a threat simply by existing." Then something finally connected and she stopped. Her eyes lifted to meet his and he blinked at the wonder and awe in them, two things he saw rarely and even rarer when referring to him. He fought the urge to wiggle uncomfortably. "You didn't smite me."

Alistair shrugged, eager for the movement. "You didn't attack."

She blinked, the emotions not fading from her slate grey eyes. "No, I don't think you understand. You didn't smite me. You're a Templar-"

"Former Templar and I never made the vows!"

"-and you didn't smite me. Even Cul-" she stopped the word with a light cough though she continued the thought in her head. Even Cullen would have put a smite down on her fast enough to have her head spin. Other Templars would have killed her where she stood because that loss of control, as far as they were concerned, was an attack and a weakness to demons, never mind that she'd passed her Harrowing and was completely disinterested at the thought of losing herself to be ridden by a demon for all of eternity.

"You didn't attack me," he repeated as though it were a simple matter. "Or Jory or Daveth. But mostly me. After all, I don't really want my face burned off by a fireball. Or my hair. That would be bad."

"Can't do fire magic so you're safe from fireballs. From me, at least." She gave him a tentative smile which he returned more warmly. There was silence for a few heartbeats while they stared at each other before Medb, loudly, brushed her armor off. They both jumped.

"Not that I wouldn't love to stand here until moss grows on us, but can we get a move on? I'd like to get through the Joining before I die of old age," Medb said, eyeing Alistair thoughtfully, who gave a snort. _Amused._

"Ladies first." Alistair gestured out in front of himself. Tasha rolled her eyes and limped, feeling her muscles scream under both the physical strain and the mana fatigue.

Jory and Daveth met back up with them, Tasha noticing the anger and displeasure on their faces. They'd gotten into an argument. Neither said a word about it and after the display they'd just witnessed, she didn't want to push her luck. It didn't need to be a Templar's blade to kill her, after all, and neither man particularly liked her.

They continued on in silence, coming across the body of a missionary. Medb volunteered to search the body, ignoring the horrified expressions on the faces of their male companions. When she straightened and announced that she'd found nothing of importance, they moved on.

Quietly, she slipped a damp piece of paper into Tasha's hand, unslinging her bow in nearly the same motion. Quickly Tasha skimmed it, feeling a pang in her heart and a desire to help this missionary, even if she thought he was mad. But they were in the same swamp so if he was mad…

 _Agony. Fear._ Tasha locked her knees to keep them from buckling under the weight of that feeling, thrown out of her thoughts.

"Patrol!" Jory called. The thrum of fear that sprouted from him didn't even distract her from trying to breathe through the second hand pain. "Dead."

That was when she saw the corpses. There were in various forms of mutilation and decay, armor rent and in a couple of instances nearly cleaved in two. The stench mixed with the general unpleasantness of the swamp and Tasha had to fight against the urge to heave. Medb hissed in a breath, going white. Daveth turned a sickening shade of green. Jory and Alistair just tightened their expressions though the emotions slapping her forced her to tighten the shield around her empathy.

The mage should have been horrified. These were her first actual dead bodies but for some reason, there as only a vague sense of relief and curiosity. Dead men didn't feel.

"Got a live one over here." Daveth rushed forward. That explain the pain.

"Grey Wardens?" the man grunted as the party approached. Where the patrol's death had barely affected her, this man had her taking a step back as soon as she saw him. He was covered in blood. At least some of it was his, but there were darker splatters on his armor that weren't from a human.

"How are you still alive?" she breathed, eyes wide as she inched closer. The man had left a trail of blood where he had crawled this far.

"Well, he's not half as dead as he looks," Alistair quipped, kneeling down. Tasha was about to snap at him but saw the fleeting pained expression on his face.

"I need… back to camp… Darkspawn…"

Without another word, Alistair pulled his pack off his back and started ruffling through it. Tasha crept forward until she could put a hand hesitantly on his. The Warden looked up, startled when she gently took the bandages from him.

"This probably won't feel pleasant," she warned lowly. She'd been told her healing magic was uncomfortably cold. What worried her was how the broken solder barely flinched when she pumped a little of her remaining mana into his wounds (channeled through a healing spell; she wasn't dumb enough to just stuff mana into a nonmagical body). It wasn't much, but she was fairly confident his insides wouldn't end up as his outsides, at least until he got to camp. The healers there could deal with him then. "Don't get stabbed again. You'd mess up my work and I'd have to freeze you to the ground to keep you still the next time."

The soldier eyed her as he shakily got to his feet. He limped away, carefully holding his belly. Jory had already started to snap at Alistair who was doing his best to remain calm. Tasha watched the exchange, growing more and more confused. "Hold up. If you can sense them, why don't we just avoid them?" she asked. "I mean, it's not like we're supposed to engage them." Four pairs of eyes stared at her. "What?" she asked self-consciously.

"You're not being serious, are you? Were you even listening to Duncan?" Jory asked incredulously.

"Nope," Tasha replied honestly. "I had other things on my mind."

"What could be more important that our commander's orders?" the knight asked, completely baffled.

Something flickered in the mage's eyes and she leaned in. "Magey things." She had to fight back a snicker when the man paled. He reacted to any mention of magic like the males in the tower had to women's troubles. In both instances, the reaction was hilarious and exasperating.

Jory sidled away, eyeing her with no small amount of dismay. Daveth moved closer to Tasha. "Why do you do that?" he asked quietly. "Rile him up, I mean."

Tasha blinked slowly. "For the same reason you flirt and act like you don't care. People expect it from you. We all have a role to play, whether or not that's who we are. You're the dastardly rogue. I'm the dangerous mage that flaunts what she can do." She noticed that she was worrying her robes again and made an effort to still her hands. Daveth only blinked in understanding before speeding up to walk beside Alistair.

The mage sensed rather than saw Medb move when the archer gently bumped her shoulder with her own, ignoring the slight flutter of sparks. "And I'm the savage," she murmured under her breath. "I get it."

Alistair held up a hand and everyone stopped dead in their tracks. It was then that she became aware of a faint tickle at the edge of her awareness, rippling across the Warden's weird shield. As soon as she noticed it, however, the sensation made her feel ill as it strengthened and seemed to pulse. "Darkspawn," Alistair muttered, drawing his sword.

* * *

 ** _AN: Well, thank you everyone who has followed or reviewed or favorited. You have no idea how grateful I am because it sort of lets me know what direction I should be going in. If there's something you like or dislike, please do not hesitate to let me know. I'm always looking to improve my writing. Or if you have any other random thoughts._** ** _As always a big thank you to my beta, asteracea._**


	10. Slaying Entails Certain Sacrifices

10\. Slaying Entails Certain Sacrifices

There were about seven of them, both the short squat things that were called genlocks apparently and the taller (uglier in her opinion though neither species could be called ugly at their best) brutes that Alistair said were hurlocks. The battle went better than she thought for her first time fighting alongside people who actually knew what they were doing. She only wished that she could have been more of a help but it was difficult to manage much offensive magic when it was all she could do to keep shields up.

Still, by the time Medb dropped the last genlock with a carefully placed arrow to the eye, Tasha was panting and dripping with sweat from her effort despite the cool temperatures.

"Everyone good?" Alistair asked.

"I haven't had this much fun since I thought I was going to be hung for picking Duncan's pocket," Daveth quipped, wiping off his mismatched daggers on one of the nearby plants. Ten he knelt at one of the slain darkspawn.

"What in Andraste's flaming knickers are you doing?" Tasha asked, horrified, as he started filling up a small vial, careful not get any darkspawn blood on his hands.

"You really weren't paying attention, were you?" Jory asked her.

"I wouldn't have asked if I had been. I told you, there were magey things I was thinking about," she snapped back. Her magic washed over them for a moment, cooling after the fight. The hairs on the back of Alistair's neck lifted as his Templar training responded.

"We're supposed to be bringing in darkspawn blood." Finally, she got an answer. She twisted to look at Medb, who already had hers and was studying the vial with a bored expression. Hate bubbled up past whatever she had going on, though.

"So that's what the vial is for."

Four sets of eyes stared at her. "You're not going to ask what the blood is for?" Alistair asked, golden eyebrows pinching together.

Tasha shrugged. "It's for the Joining. The only thing I can't figure out is exactly what we're doing with the blood."

"How did you-"

"I'd like to imagine I'm an expert in secret rituals," she answered the Warden's question before he finished asking it.

"What do you mean?" Jory asked hesitantly though from the fear suddenly pulsing through him he was expecting a horrible answer, one that probably had to do with blood magic and/or sacrifices.

Instead, all he got was "I'm not allowed to talk about it and since I'm using unauthorized magic anyway, I'd like to attempt to keep one rule unbroken. Besides, Alistair already knows what I'm talking about."

Jory turned expectantly to the Warden, who coughed nervously under the attention. "I was being trained as a Templar before Duncan recruited me. If she's passed the Harrowing, which she probably has since she's outside, then she does understand secret rituals and that they often come with a price."

"I've passed my Harrowing, in case you were wondering," she said, eyeing Jory. "You can even ask Duncan if you don't believe me."

"Can we move on? I'm anxious to be done with the mission." Medb suddenly spoke up, pinning Alistair with her sharp, green gaze. Jory began to fill up his vial.

Tasha hesitated, eyes narrowed as she studied the other recruits. They were collecting darkspawn blood and she could only assume it was for the Joining, as confirmed by Alistair though he hadn't come right out and said it. So there was something to do with the darkspawn blood that made the Wardens what they were, which was in part renowned darkspawn killers. Her eyes flicked to Alistair and her eyebrows pinched together. There was a relationship there, between the darkspawn and the Wardens. Now that she had a chance to think about it, and having actually encountered darkspawn now, they felt remarkably similar to the Warden shield.

"Aren't you going to fill up your vial?" Medb asked, breaking her concentration.

The muscles of her jaw tightened. "No."

"But Duncan said-"

Tasha glared at Jory. "Look, I get that I'm a mage and because of that, any contribution I make on the battlefield, even if it isn't offensive is helpful. But I need to kill a darkspawn, prove I can do it and that I'm worthy to be a Warden. So the blood I collect in my vial will be from one I kill myself. I won't let everyone else kill darkspawn while all I do is toss defensive spells around. That's not being a Warden."

"A Warden does whatever is necessary to defeat the Blight," Alistair said quietly. She could feel his eyes on her before she turned around to meet his warm gaze.

"A Warden sacrifices everything, risks their lives killing darkspawn and protecting everyone else so they don't have to," she replied, voice equally soft. "I won't let others make that sacrifice when I could do it. Besides, I have to prove myself doubly more than you. You don't have everyone's prejudice against magic hanging over your head. I cannot sit on the sidelines. I will not." For just a moment, even though she couldn't exactly feel the emotion, she could see the flicker of respect and pride in Alistair's eyes. For some reason, that made her feel warm all over.

"All right, let's move on then," Alistair said, turning away from the mage but not before she read slight hesitation on the Warden's face. She hopped forward so that she was beside him.

"I have some questions for you. About Wardens, I mean."

He glanced over at her. "Oh, are you sure you're paying attention?" he asked, though the teasing glint in his eyes was obvious. "I'd hate to have you go to Duncan and make me look bad for not answering questions."

Without thinking, she giggled and playfully nudged his armoured arm with an elbow. It was only when he glanced down in surprise at the sparks that skittered over the metal from the contact that she grimaced. "Sorry, I forgot that you all don't know." She took his shrug, despite the wide eyes, as acceptance of the apology. "No, it's about the Grey Wardens' connection to darkspawn."

Alistair stumbled and nearly fell. Even through the barrier, his emotions were loud and clear. "I'm sorry, what did you just say?" At the question in his eyes, Tasha suddenly felt self-conscious.

"Am I not supposed to know before the Joining or something?" she asked timidly, nervous that she'd be dumped back in the Circle because she'd proven too difficult.

"I don't actually know. I mean, I'm not allowed to really talk about it but if you already know…" he trailed off, looking troubled.

"I don't," she rushed to reassure him, not entirely sure why she felt compelled to do so. "But I'm not dumb and I've spent a lifetime learning to piece meaning behind action and make connections." She blinked up at him, eyes wide and sincere, and for once, her emotions were easy to ready on her face. Alistair swallowed audibly, mouth suddenly dry. "I'm sorry if I'm causing trouble for you."

"You're not. It's just that I wasn't expecting such a beautiful woman to be that clever. I mean, not that beautiful women can't be clever," he hastily amended at her raised eyebrow but even though his head was screaming for him to stop, he just kept talking. "But you were raised in the Tower and it's not like you would have had experiences like that. I mean-Maker's breath, I'm just going to stop." Even in the misty half-light of the Wilds, she could see his ears turn pink.

Tasha couldn't restrain her giggle. "Are you sure you don't want to keep digging your pit? Because it's kind of adorable."

He looked up at her just as she grinned, the expression dimming at the rush of warmth that seemed to melt the shield around his emotions. "What?" he asked, brow pinching together in concern. The barrier reformed.

Suddenly uncomfortable, she started babbling, trying to distance herself. "So there's a connection between Grey Wardens and darkspawn. The Joining makes us Wardens and darkspawn blood has something to do with it. Plus there's the whole shield thing and both yours and Duncan's feel like darkspawn but you're obviously not one unless you're really good at faking being human. And you can sense them. Obvious connection. The only thing I can't figure out is what's wrong with Medb. Well, other than the Joining puzzle. But she's obviously sick and she feels like you two do but she feels," Tasha hesitated, reaching along her magic to where it was bound to Medb, "less tamed, more volatile. But she isn't a Warden yet so I don't get it."

She would have continued on had Alistair's body not tensed and a faint, nauseating tickle just at the back of her mind not eased into being. With wide eyes, she looked at Alistair, who met her eyes with a slight frown. He answered her wordless question with a single word, spoken loud enough for everyone to hear: "Darkspawn."

* * *

 ** _AN_** ** _: I AM SO SORRY YOU GUYS. I WENT TO UPLOAD THE NEXT CHAPTER AND REALIZED I HAD SKIPPED THIS ONE. Which wouldn't have been a major issue in hindsight, but the chapter I was going to upload, which was confusing both myself and my beta reader because the numbering was weird.  
Anyway, I am also so sorry that it's been so long between chapters.  
_**

 ** _If y'all get the reference from the chapter title, I will love you forever. Also, any mistakes or gross ways of saying things are straight up 100% mine because this chapter was not beta read and I wanted to fix this problem as quickly as possible._**


	11. Mage, Mage, and More Mages

11\. Mage, Mage, and More Mages

"I'm fine, really. It's just a cut." Tasha tried to wave off the concern from Alistair and the recruits even though she could feel the sharp sting and the blood sliding down her cheek. Damn hurlock. If she hadn't had the reflexes to jerk backwards, life could be a lot worse. Or nonexistent, as the case may be.

"But you're a mage and-" Jory stopped talking abruptly as Tasha pinned him with an icy glare.

"And just because I've got a cut, now I'm suddenly going to turn into a blood mage, right?" she spat, bristling. "Because I clearly have no sense of self control, right?"

"Let's just keep moving." Alistair shifted between the two, attempting to keep the peace. Medb's eyes flashed with green fire, resulting in a slight wince from Tasha, and she began to snarl at the knight, defending the mage. He didn't notice the whispering buzzing at the base of his skull, nor the tingle of magic in the air. The latter, Tasha did, and a shield snapped into place around Alistair just as a blast of lightning struck him. That was the first time she'd ever had a full power spell hit a shield of hers and she had to that say she didn't like it.

She spun around to see one of the genlock things leering at them. It carried a sickly looking staff. Her lip curled as rage she'd never felt before built and frost spread along the ground away from her feet. Medb went for her bow but before she could loose an arrow, Tasha had yanked a bolt of lightning down from the clouds and with deadly precision, slammed it directly into the genlock mage. It stiffened and then keeled over, staff clattering from its hand. Tasha didn't even realize how tense her body was, fists clenched at her sides, until the strain hit her like a brick and her head went fuzzy.

She was dimly aware that she fell to her knees but she was more focused on breathing and not passing out. "Okay," she coughed, wheezing. "I'm okay." She braced her hands on the marshy ground and let herself slide into the meditation exercises that had become second nature while she was living in the tower. Still, she could feel the cold biting at her, so with the little bit of magic she had left coursing through her veins, she pulled the cold energy into her body and forced it to react with her magic. _Worry. Fear. Concern. Hatred._ She had no more barriers up around her gift and she couldn't shift through the outside emotions besieging her.

It wasn't much but the extra addition of the cold bolstered her flagging strength enough that the cold mud soaking her hands faded away from her awareness and her breathing steadied. A gentle, metal-covered hand touched her shoulder. Unlike the last time they'd touched, he didn't flinch away from the defensive sparks that licked across the metal. "Tasha?" Alistair's voice was soft. Closing her eyes briefly, she sifted through the emotions besieging her. He was most of the concern though Medb took contributed a great deal of it. Sitting nearly buried under the concern was something she'd never felt before from anyone: wonder.

Her eyes opened and she slowly rocked back onto her heels. With painstaking care, she did not look at any of her companions and instead fixed her gaze on the dead genlock. "Guess I can kill things other than spiders," she murmured.

"What?" Medb asked, brow furrowed.

Tasha shook her head just quickly enough that her head didn't throb worse than it was beginning to. "Nothing. Just a thought I had. Help me up." Together Alistair and Medb pulled her to her feet. Taking measured steps, she carefully made her way over to her first kill as a free mage. Somewhere in the back of her head, she felt deep satisfaction that the genlock was a mage. Once she got its blood in the little vial, she turned to the others. "Okay. Unless there's something else we need to do that I also wasn't paying attention to, let's go."

Irritation flared from Jory as well as a sharp sense of disbelief. Before she could stop herself, Tasha turned on him, every muscle in her body once again tensed. Medb touched her elbow, glaring at the knight though she didn't know why exactly. There was only a slight wince from the elf as her leather glove had sparks dancing across it. "Not worth it," she muttered, glaring at their fellow recruit.

"Duncan wanted us to collect some Grey Warden treaties that were left here before the Wardens were forced to leave." Alistair explained quickly before the mage could blow up at her fellow recruit.

She studied the Warden long enough that he wanted to squirm uncomfortably under her even, unnerving stare. Then she swung her gaze up to a half-ruined tower built on the hill a distance away. "That's where you were leading us, isn't it?" she murmured. She missed the way he blanched but she did catch the flare of panic and tilted her head to look at him.

"You know, for being so completely oblivious, you're pretty observant," Daveth commented brightly, seeing to ease the tension, though he was concerned beneath the joviality.

Shoving the defensiveness down, she lifted one side of her mouth at him though there was just a hint of ice in her expression. "Or I could just be incredibly clever," she quipped back. Alistair smiled.

Mumbling something about foolishness, Jory pushed ahead, shoulders tight.

The glyphs on the broken chest, Warding and Repulsion, no longer gave off a faint hum of magic. Her temper flickered. "Maker damn it, they aren't here."

"What?" Alistair ignored the sparks that came from contact with Tasha as he nudged her out of the way. He let out a groan as he saw for himself there were no papers. For a moment, he was at a loss of what to do.

She was already upset and on edge after Medb accidentally summoned a demon called "Gazareth". Or possibly because of the attempted ambush with another genlock mage that had nearly killed Daveth. Or it could have been the hostility from Jory that sat just beneath the surface every time he looked at either Medb or Tasha. Or, and she didn't want to admit this one as a possibility, it could have been because she didn't know what to do with Alistair. So when the hairs on the back of Tasha's neck stood on end, reacting to the powerful wave of magic, she was about ready to scream. "Well, well, well," a feminine voice murmured huskily. "What have we here?" They all turned, Medb sliding an arrow onto the bowstring as she did so. "Are you a vulture, I wonder?" A woman was descending the ruined steps with an air fitting a barbarian queen and even Tasha blinked at how intensely beautiful she was. Black hair was twisted up onto her head but what was more interesting was her sharply intelligent raptor eyes. From the three men came the stirrings of desire though it was sternly quashed. Medb remained wary, on guard at Tasha's side. "A scavenger poking amidst a corpse whose bones were long since cleaned? Or merely an intruder, come into these darkspawn filled Wilds of mine in search of easy prey?" She stopped, still on the steps, tawny eyes appraising, judging, and narrowed when they fell on Tasha. "What say you, hmm? Scavenger or intruder?"

This woman was a powerful mage and her magic swirled around her, cloaking her emotions. Warily, she watched her. "I would first know who you are and where you come from."

The woman lifted an eyebrow as she studied Tasha. There was no way she'd miss her being a mage but at this point it was more a question of whether or not the apostate would prove a threat. "You are the intruder here. I believe the first question is mine," she said mildly, almost disinterestedly. But Tasha had felt a flicker of curiosity from her through the shroud her magic produced. The apostate walked around the group. Medb tightened her grip on her bow. "I have watched your progress for some time," she informed them and did not miss the wariness in varying strengths cross their faces. "'Where do they go,' I wondered, 'why are they here?' And now you disturb ashes none have touched for so long. Why is that?"

After a moment, Tasha opened her mouth. "Don't answer her," Alistair cut in, watching the apostate. "She looks Chasind, and that means others may be nearby."

A sneer flitted across her face. "You fear barbarians will swoop down upon you?" she asked sarcastically, waving her arms to emphasize her opinion.

Alistair didn't blink. "Yes. Swooping is bad."

They were like two dogs growling at each other with hackles raised and the tension was forcing Tasha to fight the urge to wiggle. "She's a Witch of the Wilds, she is. She'll turn us into toads," Daveth said, eyes flicked back and forth between the Warden and the apostate who gave a short bark of laughter.

"Witch of the Wilds? Such idle fancies, those legends. Have you no minds of your own?" The men bristled, clearly hating the implication. Tasha and Medb remained quiet, studying the other woman. Tasha, for her part, felt a deep kinship with this woman for one simple reason: freedom. She had freedom and Tasha got the impression that she would do anything to maintain it. For someone who'd been essentially imprisoned in a gilded cage, to find another mage so defiantly free was refreshing. The apostate turned to the two recruits. "You there. Women do not frighten like little boys. Tell me your name and I shall tell you mine."

"I'm Medb and this is Tasha." The Dalish elf inclined her head toward Tasha.

"A pleasure to meet you." Tasha smiled. If the expression was a little stiff, no one commented on that.

The woman's sneer morphed into something that could be called a pleasantly surprised smile. "Now that is a proper civil greeting, even here in the Wilds. You may call me Morrigan." Alistair made a noise of disgust. She turned her sharp, tawny eyes on him, and softness vanishing. "Shall I guess your purpose?" she proposed, once more stalking about the group. Tasha could have slugged Alistair for that. "You sought something in that chest, something that is here no longer?"

Alarm blasted through Alistair. "Here no longer? You stole them, didn't you? You're some kind of...sneaky...witch thief." Medb turned her head to the side and coughed to cover up the snort. Daveth watched her, eyes wide and nervous.

"How very eloquent. How does one steal from dead men?" Morrigan asked, deadpan.

"Quite easily, it seems," Alistair answered flatly. He straightened with the sound of splintmail sliding across itself. "Those documents are Grey Warden property and I suggest you return them." The sinking sun lit him from behind, turning his blonde hair to golden fire, and even with his armor coated in darkspawn blood, he cut an impressive figure. Tasha could see the Templar he could have been but something itched at her mind. He reminded her of something, or someone, but she could not for the life of her remember who. But, more importantly, as her eyes swept his body, she found herself attracted to the man and the part of her still focused on Cullen baulked at the idea that she could want someone so soon. Guilt sliced into her heart.

Morrigan arched what seemed like an uncaring eyebrow. "I will not for 'twas not I who removed them. Invoke a name that means nothing any longer if you wish; I am not threatened."

Alistair's brow sank down in the first glare she'd ever seen from him. "Who did remove them then?" Tasha asked hastily, forcing her attention onto the witch, and fighting against the tension in the air.

"'Twas my mother, in fact."

Medb tipped her head to the side. Her eyes were sharp, weighing the mage. "Can you take us to her?" she asked.

Morrigan smiled and the expression warmed her face. "There is a sensible request. I like you."

 _Wariness_. Tasha glanced at Alistair, who continued to glare at the apostate. "It'd be careful," he warned Medb, eyes not leaving Morrigan. "First it's 'I like you…'" his voice went up an octave to badly mimc Morrigan's before falling back down into his normal range. Tasha his her smile. "Then zap! Frog time." Tasha held back a snort. What was with these men and frogs? That was not a normal mage skill so where did they get the idea that mages couldn't transform others?

"She'll put us all in the pot, she will. Just you watch," Daveth agreed. A light fr0st formed on the ground.

Morrigan met Tasha's eyes and confusion flickered across her eyes so fast, the other mage had to wonder if she'd simply imagined it. But she understood why. She imagined that the flavor of her magic, so heavily tied with her empathy as it was, was different from nearly anything else that could be encountered.

"If the pot's warmer than this forest, it'd be a nice change," Jory said. For the first time, Tasha found herself nodding in his direction. After a moment, he returned it and Tasha understood. She was a known threat and he'd rather deal with her.

Morrigan studied the group, eyes narrowed then she lifted her chin. "Follow me, then, if it pleases you."

Another trip deeper into the Wilds then. Tasha tried not to stay on guard, to put the woman at ease with her. But when they were brought to a small house, Tasha nearly went to her knees as magic more powerful than any she'd felt before in her life pressed against her shields, groping, searching, demanding. Alistair's hand went to his sword when she stopped, swaying and fighting to stay on her feet.

"I'm fine," she panted, pushing back against the magic. _Amusement_. She lifted her head to see an old woman step out of the shack. No surprise. That surprised Tasha and all of her attention went onto the seemingly frail woman. Somehow she'd known they were coming. There was no other explanation for it.

"Greetings, MOther. I bring before you five Grey Wardens who-"

"I see them girl," the old woman interrupted Morrigan. They had the same eyes, piercing, golden, predatory and the old woman's had a keenness to them that put Tasha on edge. "Hmmm," she said, studying the group. "Much as I expected."

Alistair scoffed. "Are we supposed to believe you were expecting us?"

The woman lifted an eyebrow. "You are required to do nothing, least of all believe. Shut one's eyes tight or open one's eyes wide...either way, one's a fool."

"Fool is hardly what we should call you," Medb said, voice sharpening a little.

"She's a witch, I tell you! We shouldn't be talking to her!" Daveth was on the verge of bolting.

"Quiet, Daveth! If she's really a witch, do you want to make her mad?" Jory said, eyes darting between the three of mages. At this point, it didn't matter which she he was talking about.

"There is a smart lad. Sadly irrelevant to the larger scheme of things, but it is not I who decides. Believe what you will." Her eyes fell on Tasha, and narrowed just enough that Tasha knew deep in her gut that Morrigan's mother knew what she was. Panic flashed through her before she swallowed it down. "And what of you? Does your woman's mind give you a different viewpoint? Or do you believe as these boys do?" There was a barely noticeable shift in her expression, but Tasha knew that there was a threat there somewhere. "It has been some time since I've met one of your particular talents and I must wonder if you know."

Know what? That the woman possessed a magic that felt ancient, older than the Tevinter statue? That at that moment she wasn't a threat but she also could be in the blink of an eye? "I'm not sure what to believe," she said slowly, eyebrows pinching together. She got the distinct impression that Morrigan's mother was impressed but…

"A statement that possesses more wisdom than it implies. Be always aware...or is it oblivious? I can never remember." The old mage shook her head. But her eyes never left Tasha. There was a keen intelligence behind the mad words and that concerned Tasha more than it should have. "So much about you is uncertain...and yet I believe. Do I? Why it seems I do!" A strange ripple went through her magic, feeding into Tasha's and once again she had to fight to stay on her feet. _What do you mean?_ Tasha wanted to scream.

"So this is a dreaded Witch of the Wilds?" Alistair scoffed, stiffening a little when Morrigan's mother fixed her eyes on him.

"Witch of the WIlds, eh? Morrigan must have told you that. She fancies such tales, though she would never admit it! Oh, how she dances under the moon!" she laughed, throwing her head back.

"They did not come to listen to your wild tales, Mother," Morrigan sounded bored, but discomfort was clear in the slight tension in her shoulders.

"True, they came for their treaties, yes? And before you begin barking, your precious seal wore off long ago. I have protected these," Morrigan's mother said, offering a bundle of wax sealed envelopes.

Alistair puffed up in Warden indignation but then her words and action registered. "You-! Oh," Alistair said, deflating. He blinked, a little stunned. "You protected them."

Morrigan's mother lifted an eyebrow. "And why not? Take them to your Grey Wardens and tell them this Blight's threat is greater than they realize!" The ripple passed over Tasha again and the hairs on the back of her neck lifted. She still had to force herself to stay upright, but the power wasn't quite what it had been. Or perhaps she was merely adjusting to it. Her eyes narrowed as she studied the old woman. Who was she?

"What do you mean?" Medb asked, tipping her head to the side.

"Either the threat is more or they realize less. Or perhaps the threat is nothing! Or perhaps they realize nothing!" SOmething about those words set Tasha's magic on edge but damn if she didn't know why.

"Thank you for returning them," Medb said. Her hand shook slightly as she took the envelopes but her green eyes, steady as they'd ever been, narrowed as she studied Morrigan's mother cautiously.

"Such manners. Always in the last place you look for. Like stockings!" The old woman laughed. Tasha's eyebrows lifted almost incredulously. "Oh, do not mind me." She laughed again and if Tasha hadn't known better, she'd almost have said the sound was a chortle. "You have what you came for."

"Time for you to go then." Morrigan sounded bored, tawny eyes glinting dangerously in the firelight.

"Don't be ridiculous, girl. These are your guests."

Irritation danced across Morrigan's face, but she clearly couldn't refuse her mother. "Very well. I will show you out of the woods."

* * *

 _ **AN** **: So sorry for not getting this uploaded again when I said I would. I was at a convention this weekend (IT WAS SO AMAZING) but it's over and I'm sad. So fandoms.**_


	12. You're Always Preparing, Just Go

12\. You're Always Preparing, Just Go

Medb slid the key into Tasha's hand before shooing the men toward Duncan. She glanced back at the mage to make sure she understood what the key was for. The elf's back was straight, but stiff, and only an observant onlooker would be able to see the whiteness on either side of her lips or the occasional, firmly repressed tremor that jolted up her spine. Tasha frowned, watching her briefly before shaking her head. There were more important tasks at hand than worrying about someone who wasn't immediately in danger of dying.

She handed the flower over to the kennelmaster, who thanked her and asked her to come by after the battle. Her stomach knotted up, but she figured it was because she'd never done anything like that and pushed the feeling aside. The mage felt eyes on her back and turned to see Felina grinning at her with a wave. Tasha lifted a hand in greeting before turning back around.

She knew the chest that Medb had mentioned, had seen it while she was running around looking for the other recruits. The Tranquil no longer stood guard, perhaps believing that no one would attempt to open the chest since people were rushing about or maybe he had been summoned to some other duty. Tasha still wore her robes and with them on, she looked like any other mage present - although someone from the tower would have known instantly that her rank was too low to be allowed to be there. Carefully, she twisted the key, rewarded with a faint click. Most of the items in the chest wouldn't be exceptionally helpful, especially since at that moment she didn't have anywhere to stash them. But tucked away and wrapped in some spare cowls were ten tiny, precious vials of silvery-blue fluid. The faint hum of magic washed over her, setting her senses to tingle and sensitizing her own magic. "Lyrium," she breathed, eyes widening as a jolt of desire washed over her only to be firmly quashed. In the Circle, she'd only been permitted to take lyrium a handful of times, one of which was the Harrowing. But this? She stared at the vials, blinking slowly, before glancing at the mage compound. An internal debate ending in Tasha carefully tucking eight of the vials away into her pouch.

Bright-eyed and trying to hide the giddiness, she made her way back to Duncan's tent, where Alistair had been explaining what had happened. "Did you mention Morrigan and her mother?" she asked absently as she handed her vial over to Duncan, unable to stop the swelling of pride.

"Who?" Duncan asked, swiveling toward the younger Warden.

Before he could answer, Tasha waved her hand impatiently. "She and her mother live out in the Wilds. Pretty sure both of them are apostates." At that, Duncan eyed Alistair sternly; the younger man shuffled uncomfortably with the clink of metal on metal. Tasha went on, ignoring the strange behavior though she made a mental note of it. "Not that it really matters. I'd prefer they didn't get turned into the Templars. But we were told to tell you that this Blight's threat is greater than you realize."

Duncan stared at the mage long enough that she wanted to squirm and probably would have had there not been a pulse of incredibly thick worry through that strange barrier. "Why should I believe her, this woman?"

Medb jumped into the conversation, lifting a shoulder delicately in a half shrug. "I asked her the same thing and she was vague about that as well." Her eyes flicked to Tasha. "But then, she wasn't clear on most of what she said."

"Can we just move on to the Joining? I'm eager to be done with this," Jory interrupted. Medb threw a glare at him, opening her mouth to speak, but when Tasha caught her eye, she shook her head. Daveth's mouth pursed in displeasure, watching the knight.

Duncan studied the recruits for just a moment longer before nodding. "I will not lie. We Wardens pay a heavy price for our abilities. Fate may demand that you pay the price now rather than later."

Tasha mulishly lifted her chin, though there was a brief flicker of excitement and fear in her eyes. "We're ready," Medb said firmly, studiously ignoring Jory.

"Very well, head to the old temple. We'll be there shortly."

"Darkspawn blood? We're going to drink darkspawn blood?" Daveth asked incredulously. Later Tasha would say that she wasn't surprised at all but even she couldn't stop the disbelief and horror she felt, let alone the blasts of emotions from everyone else that threatened to overwhelm the walls she had up. But her mind, clever and swift as it was, began racing, putting the puzzle pieces together. She glanced toward Medb. The elf hadn't moved and her lightly tanned skin had paled, but from the set of her jaw… Tasha's eyes widened as she realized that she wasn't as horrified as the rest of them. There was an understanding deep in the elf's green eyes that baffled her.

"We're subjecting ourselves to the Taint, aren't we?" she asked quietly. It was then that Tasha noticed the increased drain on her mana since they'd returned. Duncan nodded.

Daveth looked ready to bolt, and Jory had panic coursing through him. For her part, Tasha couldn't deny the horror she felt. She looked at Alistair, who was doing his damnedest not to look at her specifically and pieces clicked into place "That's why people aren't allowed to know," she said, eyes narrowing. For once, her voice did not hold the typical sharp ice that they'd all come to associate with her. "That's why you panicked when you thought I knew." Alistair nodded slowly, still not looking at her. Her three fellow recruits turned on her.

"You knew and you didn't tell us?" Jory spat.

Tasha backed away, eyes flashing with uncharacteristic uncertainty. "No," she replied, feeling defensive but still stunned over the information they'd received. "I realized there was a connection between darkspawn and Wardens." Alistair lifted his head at her partial lie and studied her. "Let's just get on with this, please? We can yell at me later."

Alistair, obediently, said the words spoken at the Joining, brow pinched together. Refusing to look at her. Deep in her gut, Tasha knew she would

" _Join us, brothers and sisters. Join us in the shadows where we stand vigilant. Join us as we carry the duty that can not be forsworn. And should you perish, know that your sacrifice will not be forgotten. And that one day we shall join you._ "

 _ **I don't want to die.**_

First, it was Daveth, and her empathy had her choking on the same tainting thickness, before the other side of her magic welled up protectively. She still felt him die though and it was the oddest thing.

Her horror only increased when Jory, panic shoving aside everything else but fear, drew his blade. Duncan cut him down when he struck out at the Warden. Again, through her shields, she felt the life leave his body. There was a flashing pain and then...nothing.

Medb, looking at the cup with an unreadable expression, murmured something in her language before cradling the cup between her dexterous hands. "I'm dead already." Then she drank deeply, nearly choking on the blood. Tasha, bracing for the same sensation, knew instantly that something was different. As Medb's body slumped to the ground, caught by Alistair, Tasha could have sworn Duncan's shoulders relaxed. _**So, she'll live**_ _,_ she thought.

Her turn came and she could feel the faint hum of lyrium emanating from the cup as well as a dark sickness which both repelled and called to her. _Fear is your enemy_. She remembered the Enchanter's words from the tower, what seemed a lifetime ago. Tasha squared her shoulders, grey eyes flashing like steel with a fierce pride and locking with Duncan's. "At least if I die, I'll die a free mage. That's more than anyone can ask for," she said, voice strong without a quaver. For a moment, a brief moment as her magic swelled with her, she felt indomitable. Then she looked to Alistair as Duncan pressed the cup into her hands. The man looked stricken as though genuinely upset by the idea of her death. Her eyes narrowed in vague puzzlement. Just before she brought the cup to her lips, she met Duncan's unreadable gaze. "In death, sacrifice."

Tasha Amell, former mage of the Fereldan Circle of Magi and current Grey Warden tipped the silver cup as though in toast and then took a large gulp.

Agony unlike anything she'd ever known tore through her and her magic, whatever she had left after the Wilds, flared to combat the poison she'd ingested into her body, bolstered by the lyrium. As her consciousness faded, her last thought was _**At least I'm free.**_

She thought she dreamt of a great dragon, snarling and roaring to an army deep underground. For a moment, she thought she understood. Then darkness stole her again.

* * *

 ** _AN_** ** _: Nice short little chapter. Good stuff. Working on the next chapter. Adios, Daveth. Poor Jory. Well, we're super close to having the last Wardens of Fereldan._**


	13. Your Destiny Still Awaits, She Says

13\. Your Destiny Still Awaits, She Says

Tasha blinked her eyes open slowly, startled by the sheer volume of magic she felt coursing almost violently through her veins. "That's new," she grunted. Curious, she relaxed and ice pulsed out around her.

"Maker's breath!" She felt the thump as someone jumped back, metal clashing against stone. She jerked up onto her elbows to see Alistair staring at her. Two sets of wide eyes met.

Then she started to smile. He followed suit and then they were laughing, bright peals of amusement and relief. "Sorry," she gasped out when she could breathe.

"Should I be worried when I wake you up in the future? I mean, not that…" Embarrassment caused his neck and ears to flush, the pink steadily creeping up.

"Alistair, shut up." Her grey eyes danced brightly with mirth. "You're cute when you babble but I just woke up."

"Oh, so you think I'm cute, do you?" Alistair winked at her and Tasha blinked at him, startled that for the first time she could read him loud and clear; he was so relieved that she'd woken up all right that he could hardly stand.

Delight broke through then and she turned her head just as Medb pounced on her in a hug. "Stop flirting and let me have some time with Tash. Is it alright if I call you Tash?" Medb asked once she had pulled away. She appeared the model of good health, eyes bright, hair shiny though there was still a faint sheen of sweat on her skin. It only provided a contrast for what she had been like before.

"Darkspawn blood agrees with you," Tasha quipped, sensing her magic no longer giving the elf strength.

Medb's smile lit up her face, despite the slightness. "It's a much slower death this time around. I'll take all the time I can get. Ol' Worrywort here," she jabbed a thumb toward Alistair, "wanted to make sure you'd wake up. I knew you'd be fine. Plus if you died, I'd be stuck as the junior Grey Warden with him and I'd put an arrow through him before the week was out."

"Hey!" Alistair protested.

"Oh, please. Try to deny it."

"What happened to Jory and Daveth's bodies?" The last word tried to stick in her throat and she forced it out.

Grief and other forms of emotional pain flickered from the pair of her fellow Wardens, clear as day. "We already had the pyre," Alistair said, uncertain how the mage was going to react. She pulled herself up into a full sitting position as he continued, "Duncan originally wanted it before you two woke up, in case one or both of you wasn't feeling...well, anyway, Medb came to earlier than expected."

Tasha winced as she nodded. "Probably a good idea. Even in the Circle, I was kept away from funerals. All that grief in one place. Bad idea for me."

Medb's eyebrows snapped together and the sharp combination of confusion and curiosity had Tasha holding back a groan. She needed to get her shields back up and running. "Alistair, the amulet?"

"Oh, right." He pulled a pendant out of his pack and the chain slid down so she could see it. "It's got some of the blood in it from your Joining. To remind you of…" he hesitated, sadness tripping over his emotions, "those who didn't make it."

Tasha took the necklace but didn't put it on. "To Jory and Daveth. May you rest in peace in the Maker's sight." Or wherever they had ended up, she added privately. It was then that she slipped it over her head, feeling the weight heavy between her breasts.

"Duncan wanted to talk to us when you woke up. He's been getting a little antsy," Medb informed her.

Instinctively, she cast out a net, found him, and frowned as she got the read off him. "He's worried, probably that I won't wake up in time." She frowned. In time for what? She met Alistair's eyes. "There was lyrium in that Maferath's balls awful stuff, wasn't there."

"How did you-"

"I've only gotten lyrium a handful of times in my life but a mage never forgets what it feels like after. I've got a major power boost right now and I think I'm itching for a fight."

Alistair blinked.

"Duncan?" Medb reminded her.

"All right. Let's go."

Duncan was talking to the quartermaster when they approached. Tasha, startled that she could sense his emotions, shifted uncomfortably as his relief and pride hit her like a ton of bricks. "Ah, there you are. It's good to see you awake. How do you feel?"

"Weird. That was far more painful than the Harrowing but I'd rather wake up from the Joining than the Harrowing." The muscles in Tasha's jaw twitched as she remembered. The temperature around her lowered a bit. Medb tossed her a curious glance.

"Such is what it takes to be a Grey Warden. Alistair, did you give them the pendants?"

"Of course."

"The king has asked that Medb and Tasha join us in a meeting with his advisors."

 _Anger. Distaste_. Tasha swiveled around to face Alistair, who had turned to where she supposed the king was. His jaw muscles tensed and his eyes narrowed. Medb joined her in studying him curiously.

"Alistair?" she asked, hesitantly touching his arm. He yanked it away as though he'd brushed against a live coal.

"I'm fine."

"Come quickly." Duncan moved swiftly away. Alistair, shoulders tense, went the opposite direction. Tasha swung her head between the two, torn.

"I'll meet you there," she muttered to Medb before bounding off after Alistair. The elf stared after her friend before glancing in Duncan's direction. Jaw set, she settled down against a stone pillar.

"Alistair! Wait!" Tasha called, lifting up the hem of her robes so she wouldn't trip and land on her face. His steps faltered.

"If the king wants you, you should probably go." This time it was Tasha's turn to miss a step, startled by the bitter vehemence laced in his voice and assaulting her gift. He carried on, not noticing the way her eyes narrowed at the hint of an accusing tong in his voice. "Otherwise he'll get upset, start crying and-well, it would just be bad."

Finally, Tasha managed to grab his gloves, dampening down the sparks that threatened to lash out at her confusion and unease. She tugged on it, surprised when he turned toward her. Then she saw the hurt and anger buried beneath the bitterness. "I wouldn't go if he couldn't take my head off," she told him, searching his dark eyes. "The man is an idiot and far too obvious about the fact that he finds me attractive."

His face shuttered, but that didn't stop the anger and disdain he was feeling. "He is? I mean, he does? I mean-"

"I really don't return any attention from him. I don't welcome it or him. I've known too many people like him and they only want in my robes because of my face or body. They don't care about me."

 _Shame_. Her brow furrowed as a blush crept up his neck from underneath his neck guard and idly wondered how far down it went. Then she mentally spluttered, her flinch not going unnoticed by Alistair. He coughed. "Either way, you should probably go see what he wants. I'll be by Duncan's tent if you- if he needs me."

Alistair stood up hastily as they approached, Tasha in the lead. The temperature, already cooling because of the approaching storm, dropped more as she got near. "Tasha, I-oh," he said when he saw Duncan and Medb behind her, taking a step back. "Duncan." His brow furrowed as he took in the set jaws and narrowed eyes of the two newest Wardens. "What happened?" he asked.

"The king," Tasha spat, sparks flaring to life, "thinks he requires three, count them three, Grey Wardens up there."

"Up...where? What's going on?" Alistair stared at them, bewildered, as Medb's lip curled. Tension radiated off the pair.

"The Tower of Ishal. Signal the rest of the troops." Quickly and succinctly, Medb filled the other Warden in on the battle plans. Her voice was not entirely steady though she attempted to relay the information just as she would the Keeper.

"You can't be serious! He needs three Wardens up there holding the torch?" Alistair fumed.

"That is what the king," Duncan emphasized the title firmly, "wants and that is what we will do."

"I left the Tower to fight darkspawn! Not be a servant for an idiot with an inflated sense of self-worth. Any idiot could be a king." Tasha glared at Duncan, who stared evenly back at the mage.

"Keep your voice down," Duncan finally growled, the calm exterior cracking.

Tasha's temper flared. "Why? Because he can order my head taken off? Newsflash: that's what I've been living with for the past twelve years. Twelve years of knowing I could die every day because I made the wrong move or was just a touch too aggressive. Twelve years of being ordered around by men and women who had the threat of a sword at my throat if I didn't obey. I'm sick of it!"

She turned and stomped away, only realizing when she'd gone a good dozen yards that her anger was boiling hot and she froze mid-step. Her mind flashed back to the Harrowing. Abruptly, her anger cooled as fear replaced it.

"I am real. This is real. I'm not in the Fade. I'm not possessed." Quietly she murmured facts, reassuring herself of reality, and ignoring the voice that whispered in the back of her mind of the dangers of magic. Then she flushed with shame. "What in the Maker's hairy toenails was that?" That was an overreaction if she'd ever had one. Feeling more subdued, she made her way back to Duncan's tent.

"I get it, I get it. Just so you know, if the king ever asks me to put on a dress and dance the Remigold, I'm drawing the line. Darkspawn, or no," she heard Alistair say as she approached.

"I don't know," she said quietly, stepping into the firelight with an uncertain glance at the man. He turned at the sound of her voice. She supposed the others did too but for the moment, she was only concerned with his reaction. "I think I'd like to see that."

Surprise flickered in his eyes, echoed by the stirrings in his emotions before being followed by something deeper that Tasha didn't want to investigate too deeply. "For you, maybe. But it has to be a pretty dress."

That prompted a slight upward curve of one side of her mouth. Then she looked at Duncan and hoped her apology was visible in her eyes. "Will we be able to join the battle after?"

He shook his head. "Remain there. If we need you, we'll send word."

 _Irritation._ Medb turned her head just enough to see how Tasha would react but the mage simply asked, "Will you be down with the rest of the army and Wardens?"

 _Guilt._ "I should be down there now. Alistair, would you hold onto the treaties?"

He accepted the old scrolls gingerly before swallowing hard. "Duncan, may the Maker watch over you."

"May He watch over us all."

Tasha's head jerked towards the Warden Commander as he walked off, one hand resting on the pommel of his sword. With sudden and perfect clarity, she realized that he didn't expect to survive. She touched him with her magic, pressing a faint shield around him like a second skin. The wind picked up further, carrying with it the smell of rain and the distant rumblings of thunder.

The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end. When Alistair tried to walk away, she grabbed his arm. "Tasha?" Medb asked, moving so she could see her friend's face.

The mage's jaw clenched briefly as she searched his eyes. "Something's wrong."

"Look, we've been given orders. Let's just get to the Tower quickly."

Tasha focused on the Dalish Warden. "Medb?"

"I don't like it any more than you do," she replied slowly, brow furrowed. There was still a deep tremor of anger thrumming through her but it was slowly sinking into wariness and uncertainty. "But we were given an order and even if we don't like it, the strategy seems sound." Tasha suspected she was trying to convince herself but turned her attention to Alistair. He frowned, light eyebrows pinched together in thought.

Despite the gnawing worry in her gut, she forced a smile and shook her head. The expression felt stiff, even to her, but there was no point in putting up a fight when this was a battle she couldn't win. "Never mind. I'm probably just being silly. Tower of Ishal, right?"

* * *

 ** _AN_ _: Still not super sure about the chapter title. I might come back in later after I've had a look at lines from the season 4 finale (please tell me someone knows what TV show it's from because it's one of my favorites) and change it although for now, we're fine._**

 ** _I have a new beta who is SUPER on top of things. Like holy Moses. So expect updates to start occurring regularly again. I will be taking a looksee to see if they're on here but I KNOW that they're on AO3. Toolatetofall. Go take a look at their stuff. Lots of Ryder family. Good stuff._**


	14. The Power of Three

14\. The Power of Three

In the short time it took them to make it to the bridge, the wind had picked up. Tasha's robes whipped around her legs, and the hurt was barely registered against the tingle she felt against her magic. Rain began to fall, slowly, although the drops stung bare skin with the force with which they struck and pounded against armor. Her heart began to beat faster. She rubbed her fingers into her wet robes.

"Let's head to the Tower of Ishal quickly so we can light the fire!" Alistair shouted. Tasha felt a building pressure against her empathy, distinctly separate from the lightning forming in the clouds. As they began to cross, the pressure swelled and the small figures one could see below the bridge charged toward the other side.

"The battle has started," Medb said solemnly, watching the two armies.

Alistair too looked down. Nausea coiled in his gut though Tasha suspected it was because of the distance to the valley below. Still, it wasn't quite enough to distract her from the weight of the battle and she blinked the rain out of her eyes, shaking her head as she did so. The motion did nothing to ease the feeling of emotional claustrophobia. She took deep breaths, trying to relax. "We need to go," he told the elf quietly. Neither of them noticed Tasha standing, knees locked like a frightened colt, or at least they hadn't until she bolted, alarmed and overwhelmed by the press of battle emotions from below and the energy from above. "Tasha!" he called after her. Medb twisted around and jumped into action, chasing after her friend.

"Tash, it's okay." Medb grabbed her upper arm and dug her heels in. Sparks skittered along her gloves, raising the hairs on the back of her neck, but she ignored them. "Tasha!" She didn't understand half of what the mage was babbling about but Medb pulled her into a hug. The height difference presented a bit of an obstacle; Medb, while naturally shorter as an elf, was not tall for her people and Tasha was not on the short side of humans. Tasha had to bend low to bury her face in the crook of the elf's neck and trembled. Strangely, Medb felt a faint, though intense, panic fluttering through her, making her belly squirm.

Suddenly Tasha recoiled, eyes searching the sky. With a strength that startled Medb, she gripped the Dalish hunter's shoulders and forced her to the ground. Seconds later, a massive fireball slammed into them.

Medb sucked in a breath to scream as she ducked and braced for the impact as well as the pain that would accompany it. When nothing happened, she slowly lifted her head to see Tasha, hands raised in a warding motion and freezing cold around them, made more uncomfortable by the rain that had started to fall harder.

She blinked, trying to wrap her head around why she wasn't dead, injured, or somewhere in between. "What? How?"

Tasha straightened up and lowered her hands. A faint shimmer in the air that Medb hadn't noticed faded away. There was a cautiously hard look in the mage's eyes. "Sensed it was coming. Got a shield up. Sorry it's cold," she added, noticing the elf's goosebumps. But her empathy was back under control, now that she could expect it to be worse. Small mercies in an uncaring world.

"The cold is you?" Then she winced, the tips of her delicately pointed ears flushing in embarrassment. "That didn't come out right. I meant, you can manipulate temperature like that?"

The guarded look didn't leave her eyes but it did lighten a little. "Not exactly." Her eyes flashed to Alistair when he bounded up, out of breath with a burn on one cheek but otherwise unharmed. She didn't acknowledge the other Warden otherwise. "I'm sensitive to cold energy and I weave it into my shields. Hence why it was so cold inside it. Outside, it was probably fairly warm. Not that I've ever been in the position to be able to tell what the outside of my own shield feels like really."

"Are you two alright?" Alistair asked them, hazel eyes landing between the two of them. His hair had started to flatten a little from the rain and Tasha dreaded to think of what her own must look like in a flash of odd self-consciousness.

"I'm good now. Medb?"

"Not on fire so it could be worse."

As Alistair tried to pass them, Tasha reached out a hand and gently touched his cheek. A distinctly cool sensation washed over him, numbing and easing the pain he'd pushed away.

She studied him and blinked slowly. "I'm good with burns," she said by way of explanation. "Those I can fix."

For the rest of her life, Tasha would only have a comparative handful of days that made her wish she'd stayed in the Tower. This first day as a Warden was one of them. Tasha's ability to sense the darkspawn hadn't come into effect yet, but she no longer had a barrier in the form of the Taint between her mind and Alistair's, protecting her from the buzzing at the base of the skull.

When they found out that darkspawn had invaded the Tower of Ishal, Tasha groaned. "You've got to be kidding me."

They all looked at the mage, a mixture of expressions on their faces. "We're Grey Wardens. That's kind of what we do here," Medb reminded her, puzzled.

"I know that. Did I mention I had a bad feeling?"

"Tasha are you okay?" Alistair studied her, brow furrowed in concern.

"Never mind, let's just go. Because, let's face it. This was never going to be easy." She gave a snort and began rolling her sleeves up. "Damn, I wish I'd kept that staff. I was worried about getting the Taint, you know. Ridiculous in hindsight. Oh, well. Let's go kill some darkspawn like good Grey Wardens."

The addition of the soldiers who had been stationed around the tower proved to be helpful when cutting down the darkspawn. And even though they approached battle like Alistair, she was distinctly reminded of fighting alongside Daveth and Jory in the Wilds. Her heart thumped painfully in her chest and for just a moment, she let one of her hands slide down the chain to the pendant. Never forget those who didn't make it.

Then she used the energy of the storm to direct lightning strikes into the darkspawn. Unused to that level of control, it took her several moments to gather focus and her magic to force the energy where she needed it to go.

Through Alistair, she picked up a different thrum and turned her head to see a bigger-than-usual Hurlock bearing down on her. She had enough time to snap a shield around her body and had the Hurlock tried to run her through, it might have worked. Either it had known what she was going to do, or perhaps had been blessed with ridiculous luck, because the darkspawn instead slammed its shield into her chest. The barrier she had up stopped it from actually making contact but the force behind the blow wasn't softened and she was thrown off her feet to land awkwardly on her back in the mud.

Pain spiked through her entire body, carrying with it the metallic taste of blood in her mouth. Rain poured down onto her face, making it difficult for her see. Dimly, the analytical part of her mind diagnosed at least several possible broken ribs, a probable concussion, and a variety of other injuries. Before she could move again and force herself to her feet, the Hurlock appeared in her field of vision, its disgusting face leering at her as it raised its sword to drive it into her chest. The only act of defiance she could muster through the pain was to stare into its soulless black eyes unblinkingly.

Sharp anger and fear slammed into her, temporarily driving back the pain. The Hurlock looked down at its chest almost as if it were surprised. Then the tip of a sword appeared, causing black blood to drip onto her robes.

Alistair yanked his sword out of his kill and it promptly fell on top of her. The new pain from her already abused ribs woke her up and by the time the other Warden had hauled the body off of her, she was already feeling better from the healing magic she'd sent coursing through her body.

"Tasha! Tasha, are you all right?" Alistair asked overly loud, kneeling into the wet mud beside her. A clap of thunder boomed through the valley, the sound reverberating in Tasha's bones.

"You'll rust your armor, idiot. Get up," she coughed out, hoping she wasn't doing more damage to herself.

"Don't you dare die on me. You just survived the Joining. How unfair would that be to have you die so soon?"

"I'm not dying."

"You could be delusional. Let me find-"

"Alistair." At the sound of his name, the man paused in his panicked shifting through of his pack. "Mage, remember? Just because I don't heal very well doesn't mean I can't."

"Oh. Oh, right."

Medb shoved him aside when it became clear he was just going to stare at her instead of helping the mage up. She gripped her forearm, and pulled her up.

Pain danced along her nerves, but her magic was already there, numbing it. The shorter woman searched her eyes. "Can you fight?"

"I'm not dead yet. Although when we light the beacon, I'll have to spend some time just healing." Medb seemed to weigh those words, almost as though she were studying them for truthfulness before nodding and stepping back. Then she closed her eyes. Tasha felt the shift in her emotions as they were shoved down and away, but not before she felt anguished grief. It was enough to put tears in her own eyes.

"Into the tower we go. Come on, shem," she added, nudging Alistair. He glared at the elf but his gaze softened when it shifted to Tasha accompanied by soft ripples of relief that made Tasha flinch. Medb went to follow him as he headed for the door when Tasha grabbed her arm.

"Are you okay?" She asked, frowning at the screeching fear in her fellow Warden.

"Fine. I just don't have particularly good memories of being inside."

Tasha gave a snort. "Me neither. At least you weren't trapped in one for twelve years." Instead of making her feel better, as Tasha had hoped, the words only produced more of the pain that she hadn't expected.

"No, that's true." The elf's green eyes slid to watch Alistair carefully make his way up the muddy hill. "He cares about you, you know."

"What?"

"Not sure how he managed that in such a short amount of time but he cares about what happens to you at least twice as much as he does about me." Then she returned to Tasha, who was startled to see vehement decision gleaming in them when there was no clue on the emotional front. "I think you care for him too, or you could." Those expressive eyes narrowed. "Do not let that go to waste."

Tasha exhaled on a sigh. "What happened to you?"

Again, there was that grief that lurked so close to the surface yet was only beginning to show itself. "I'll let you know if we survive this."

The two male soldiers hanging back glanced at each other, then both shrugged. Warden business. The five of them stepped out of the rain and into the dark interior of the Tower of Ishal. The door shut behind them with an ominous thud.

* * *

 ** _AN_ _: I'm so excited to be getting back to this story. Good stuff. Also, I'm settling in for the long haul with this._**

 ** _Let me know what y'all think. Good, bad, ugly. Thanks, you lovely readers you._**


	15. Our Situation Has Not Improved

15\. Our Situation Has Not Been Improved

Tasha had no idea where she was when she awoke. Instinctively, she reached out with her magic. "Ah, your eyes finally open. Mother shall be pleased." Startled, she withdrew the search and bolted upright. Every part of her body ached and it hurt to breathe. But she was alive and alive was by far better than dead.

"Excellent. Yes. Good. All right, how long was I out? Need to stop taking unexpected awake breaks. Not a fan of losing time," she murmured aloud, temporarily forgetting the other person with her.

"'Twas only a few hours," came the unexpected reply. Tasha jerked her head around as Morrigan quietly padded around the bed. "Or perhaps more. I am uncertain how long you were unconscious before Mother rescued you and your friends." The mage carefully placed a hand on Tasha's forehead and evidently was satisfied with what she found because she moved away again.

Hope suddenly bloomed in her chest and she hated the feeling. "You mean Alistair and Medb?"

"The clever elven woman and the suspicious, dimwitted one from before, yes." The relief that flooded her would normally have made her ill but at that moment, she just didn't care.

"What about the rest of the Grey Wardens? And the king?"

"How much do you remember?"

"I...I remember the Tower. I remember the ogre. I remember arguing with Alistair because I can't light fires to save my life." A small smile curled her lips at that memory. She blinked and looked up at Morrigan who watched her with unreadable tawny eyes. "But that's about it."

"The man who was to respond to the signal quit the field. Those fighting in the valley were massacred."

For a moment, Tasha stared at the other mage, unable to wrap her mind around the meaning of those words. The relief she had been feeling sank to the bottom of her stomach like lead. "Weren't there any survivors?" Even to her own ears, her voice sounded small.

"A few stragglers, yes, but they are long gone." The apostate watched her with sharp eyes.

The only sound in the small room was the fire crackling in the hearth. Everyone she'd met at Ostagar was dead. Granted the number was small but still. More weight settled on her soul. Then her eyes snapped up to meet Morrigan's. Tasha couldn't restrain the horror that widened them. "But that means- Maferath's hairy left buttcheek!" she swore, throwing off the covers. The cold air drew goose flesh on her bare skin, giving her pause. "Where are my robes?"

"I doubt you would like to wear them in the state they are in. I have some spare clothes should you prefer to wear them."

"Whatever. Fine. Thank you." Tasha dressed faster than she'd ever dressed before, barely aware of what she was actually putting on before bolting outside, bare feet sinking into the swampy ground. "Alistair!" She bellowed, drawing his attention. He turned and the relief that pummeled her weakened her knees. Two long strides later, he gripped her in a bone-crushing hug, lifting her off the ground. She didn't understand most of what he was mumbling but eventually she managed to pry him off her.

When he actually took in what she was wearing, his eyes nearly bulged out of his face and he determinedly tried to look everywhere but at her even as a deep flush crept up his throat to the tips of his ears. "Ummm, Tasha? Where are your clothes?"

"Robes are the least of my concern right now, Alistair!" Yet she was suddenly hyper-aware of the amount of skin she was showing. She shook her head impatiently. Not important. "Is it true?" She swiveled her head toward Morrigan's mother. The old woman watched the scene with clear amusement. "Are they all dead? Are we the only ones left?"

"Does it matter?" A sharp keenness gleamed in her predatory eyes.

"Of course it does!" She snapped back. "If they're all dead then that means we...that we're...Maker's breath." The fight left her body as quickly as it had come and she slumped against the door frame, hands covering her face. Shock coursed through her, accompanied by quiet jolts of pain in her torso. "We can't stop the Blight now."

"Yes, we can." Tasha glanced up to see Medb drop the hare she'd caught and killed near the fire. Hand on her hip, bow slung over her shoulder, and red hair twisted into a practical braid, she looked every inch the elven warrior she was.

Tasha dropped her head back into her hands, fingertips pressing into her hairline. "How? The Grey Wardens are dead."

"Not all of them," Medb growled. Tasha's head snapped back up at the ferocity blazing from her friend. The grief was still there but it was slowly being covered by purpose.

Then Tasha realized what the elf was saying and every muscle in her body went stiff. "Of course." She smacked herself in the face. "How could I have forgotten?"

"Trying couple of days. It's understandable. But Loghain will pay for what he's done to our brothers and sisters. Their blood is on his hands and I intend to make him remember that. Vir Banal'ras," Medb hissed. Her green eyes seemed to glow in her anger that was just short of boiling over.

"And Cailan," Alistair said quietly.

Shame fluttered through Tasha as his sorrow and grief flared. "What?" Medb asked, eyes narrowing a little.

"He killed Duncan and Cailan. He killed his king, his best friend's son, his son-in-law."

"Son-in-law? But that means…" Tasha trailed off, eyes widening as her mind backtracked. She shook her head as she inhaled sharply. "That's treason."

"Even more reason to take his head off." Medb shrugged.

"Grey Wardens don't interfere in politics," Alistair informed them. Tasha's eyes narrowed at the shiver of unease that went through him. He was hiding something, or at least trying to convince himself of something.

"Then if we encounter him on our way to defeat the Blight, _I'll_ be more than happy to take his head off," Medb replied curtly.

"Oh, yeah. The Blight. How do we go about doing that exactly?" Tasha asked, starting to feel a little buffeted by the conflicting emotions she was sensing.

"Kill the archdemon."

"Then I guess we have a dragon to kill." Tasha turned to the old woman, who had watched the exchange with barely constrained delight. She frowned. "You never mentioned your name."

"Names are pretty but useless. The Chasind folk call me Flemeth. I suppose it will do."

Medb and Tasha both froze, eyes wide, staring at the old woman. "You are Asha'Bellanar?" Medb breathed before murmuring a string of elven. Tasha glanced at her, one eyebrow lifted. "My people's name for Flemeth," the elf explained.

Curiosity assuaged, she turned her full focus back to Morrigan's mother. "If you are indeed Flemeth," the name choked slightly in her throat, "you must be very old and powerful."

"Compared to you, yes."

Tasha bit back the flare of pride-fueled anger, damping down her magic. From the slightly lifted eyebrow, somehow Flemeth knew what she had restrained and Tasha was once again confronted by a wave of magic unlike anything she'd ever felt before. "Well, thank you. We're off to go kill a dragon and save the world."

Alistair frowned. "No Grey Warden has ever defeated an archdemon without half a dozen armies at his back."

Tasha turned to him, eyes narrowing. "So what do you propose we do? Stand around and bat our eyelashes and wait for the archdemon to land in our laps so we can kill it?"

"We could go to Redcliffe and seek aid from Arl Eamon. I know him, he's a good and honorable man. Plus he wasn't at Ostagar. He still has all of his men."

"Well, Loghain was supposed to be an honorable man too," she pointed out. "And _he_ committed treason which also meant killing his son-in-law. Personally, I think that makes him more of a mouse turd than an honorable man. Honorable men don't just kill their son-in-laws."

Before another quarrel could break out, Flemeth mildly commented, "You have more at your disposal than you think." The Wardens stared at each other before Alistair slapped his hand to his forehead.

"Of course!" The treaties!" Alistair exclaimed. The deep sorrow hanging over his head like a personal stormcloud lifted briefly. Tasha grinned, fueled by what they were feeling.

"We can get aid from several places with those, yes?" Medb asked. Alistair nodded, the start of a smile at his lips.

"Can we do it, then? Can we actually be Grey Wardens and do this?" Tasha asked.

"We are Grey Wardens," Medb reminded her. "We can do this. We _will_ do this. We did not survive the Joining just to lose this land to the Blight."

"Thank you, Flemeth," Tasha said, approaching their benefactor in several soggy steps. She gripped her hands and just as quickly dropped them as though she had touched something scorching. In truth, it had been the sudden well of nearly alien emotions, startling her into jerking away.

"Do not thank me yet. There is one more thing you can do."

Morrigan closed the door to their home. "Shall we have three guests for the eve, or none?" The hostility was evident in her tone though she glared only at Alistair.

"The Grey Wardens are leaving, girl, and you're going with them."

"Such a shame. What?" Morrigan made a noise that in anyone else would have been a shriek.

"You heard me, girl. Last time I looked, you had ears."

 _Distress_. The emotion flared bright and hot as a beacon, slicing at her. Tasha glanced over at the witch and her jaw tightened. She looked down at the marshy ground for a moment before she fixed her eyes on Flemeth. The old woman's power licked around Tasha's as amusement glinted in those yellow eyes. Mulishly, Tasha lifted her chin. "Thank you, but if Morrigan doesn't wish to join us, she doesn't have to. It's her decision."

"No one should have a decision taken from them," Medb echoed Tasha's sentiments.

Flemeth chuckled, though why she was so amused, Tasha had no idea. "Her magic will be useful. Even better, she knows the Wilds and how to get past the darkspawn horde."

"Have I no say in this?" Morrigan's voice was higher than usual.

"You've been itching to get out of the Wilds for years. Here is your chance. As for you, Wardens," Flemeth then fixed the three Wardens with sharp, predatory eyes, "consider this repayment for your lives."

Tasha's eyes narrowed. She got the distinct impression that Flemeth was playing a long game with them and the Circle-trained mage didn't know the rules. "Not to look a gift horse in the mouth, but won't this add to our problems? Outside of the Wilds, she's an apostate," Alistair eyed the witch uneasily. Three sets of glares landed on him, with varying degrees of heat.

"If you did not wish help from us illegal mages, perhaps I should have left you on that tower."

"Point taken."

"Mother, this is not how I wanted this. I am not even ready-"

Flemeth firmly cut her off. "You must be ready. Alone, these three must unite Fereldan against the darkspawn. They need you, Morrigan. Without you, they will surely fail, and all will perish under the Blight. Even I."

Morrigan studied her mother for a few moments, reluctance carved into her lovely face. "I...understand."

Flemeth turned once again to the Grey Wardens. "And do you understand? I give you that which I value most in all this world. I do this because you must succeed."

Something deep within Tasha, and echoed by the sudden flurry of her gift, warned the mage that Flemeth was lying. And in the next moment, Flemeth somehow knew. Tasha swallowed and fought to keep from taking a step back.

"We understand," Medb confirmed when Tasha couldn't get the words out of her mouth.

"Allow me to get my things, please." Tasha didn't take her eyes from Flemeth. Her fear, as irrational as it seemed at that moment, spiked higher. Her magic coiled at the ready. She tracked Morrigan's movements in the house with her gift, every sense thrown open in case Flemeth decided to attack them. And the old woman knew. Morrigan came out of the house and stood before them. "I am at your disposal, Grey Wardens. I suggest a village north of here as our first destination. 'Tis not far and you will find much you need there. Or, if you prefer, I shall simply be your silent guide. The choice is yours." Her lip curled at the idea of remaining silent and she tilted her head up, almost defiantly.

"No." Tasha shook her head. "No, I prefer you speak your mind." One of Morrigan's eyebrows arched as she studied the other mage curiously.

Flemeth made a noise that could have been laughter though in all honesty, Tasha couldn't quite tell. "You will regret saying that."

Morrigan's temper spiked and she glared coolly at her mother. "Dear, sweet mother, you are so kind to cast me out like this. How fondly I shall remember this moment." Sarcasm dripped from the bitten-off words.

"Well, I always said if you want something done, do it yourself or hear about it for a decade or two afterwards." A chill of foreboding went down Tasha's spine at Flemeth's words.

"Farewell, Mother. Do not forget the stew on the fire. I would hate to return to a burned down hut."

Flemeth made a noise in the back of her throat that was vaguely similar to a snort. "'Tis far more likely you will return to see this entire area, along with my hut, swallowed up by the Blight."

 _Fear. Guilt._ It flared strongly enough that Tasha could feel it like an itch along her back. "I...I didn't...All I meant was…"

"Yes, I know. Do try to have fun, dear." Tasha was startled to hear affection in the old woman's voice, the first hint of which she'd heard since they'd met.

"Killing darkspawn is always fun," Medb commented, a fierce, toothy grin on her face. "Payback." Her lips curled away from her teeth and Tasha glanced sharply at her. Prickles of pain danced across her gift.

* * *

 ** _AN_ _: Ahhhhh, I love the smell of foreshadowing in the morning. Technically evening my time but whatever._**

 ** _Let me know what y'all think, please and thank you!_**


	16. We Named The Dog Indiana

16\. We Named the Dog Indiana

Tasha didn't quite register the whisper in her mind coming across her empathy until Alistair paused, frowning, head tilted to the side. Then she recognized it and her magic coiled to the surface. Medb's sharp eyes narrowed as she looked between the other two Wardens, understanding dawning, and she slid her bow off her shoulder and nocked an arrow.

"Darkspawn," the elf murmured to Morrigan.

"My thanks."

Everyone waited, muscles tensed.

Then Tasha's head snapped up, eyes widening as her empathy picked up something she wasn't expecting. "Wait!"

Incredulous faces turned to her but she barely noticed. Instead, she took a couple of steps forward. "You can come out."

A bark sounded and her jaw dropped as a swamp covered mabari rounded the bend in the road at a dead sprint. He skidded to a halt in front of her and barked excitedly, turning in circles more appropriate for a much smaller dog.

"You're- I didn't actually think..."

The dog actually shook his head at her as though to say _Not now_. Tasha's mouth snapped shut. Twisting his powerful body around, he looked back the way he'd come and began growling interspersed with terse barks.

When the first darkspawn rounded the bend, they understood. "Early alarm system, huh?" Medb said, drawing the arrow back and aiming. Scarcely a breath later, the arrow flew. Her lips twitched as the darkspawn dropped, an arrow in its eye.

Not to be outdone, Tasha lifted a hand and froze one. Alistair charged out, shield braced in front of him. Chaos seemed to erupt around them and Tasha felt a part of her that she had tried for years to bury wake back up.

Snarls and growls from the mabari as it tore into any of the darkspawn that got near her proved to be an auditory counterpoint to the other, more typical sounds of combat. The darkspawn battered against the shields she had raised around each person with her and soon Tasha was forced to take a slightly more defensive role, unused to trying to handle defense and offence at the same time and unable to do both. Anger spiked but she eased it away, recognizing she didn't want any of them chopped in half.

When it was over, Medb wiped one of her daggers off on the grass, a little fascinated by the black blood that congealed quickly. "And we drank that." Her tone was flat but there was a faint amusement in her eyes.

"It's a way to weed out the smart ones," Tasha quipped back, feeling the pangs of discomfort echoed by her own.

"What does that make us?" Medb's lip quirked upwards even as she glanced at Alistair, a flicker of nerves darting through her. The senior Warden didn't even blink.

"Incredibly unlucky." Tasha nodded at the blades as Medb sheathed them. "I didn't know you knew how to use them."

Medb gave a snort. "Yes, because Dalish can only use bows." She shook her head. "How in Thedas do you think we defend ourselves against shems?"

Tasha blinked then spluttered, verbally backpedaling. Medb watched her, one red eyebrow lifting, until she started laughing, the amusement breaking free and able to be sensed by the mage. "Why are you…?"

"Relax, Tasha. What are we going to do about the dog?"

Tasha finally looked at it and the darkspawn blood spattering its fur. Their eyes met. "Hang on. I think this is the mabari I helped back at Ostagar. And I think he's been looking for me," she added, brow furrowed and head tipping to the side. As if in answer, the mabari barked.

Morrigan approached, nose wrinkling in distaste. "Mangy, flea-ridden hound." The mabari whined, cocking its head and the expression looked so much like Tasha that Medb blinked, startled.

"Why is it doing that?" Medb asked slowly. "It's not as though the dog can understand us."

"Who knows? The mabari is said to be smart enough to know how to talk and wise enough to know not to. Besides-" Tasha cut herself off, freezing. Her eyes went wide as she stared at the dog. "No."

"What?" Medb looked between the mage and the dog. This had to be some sort of shem thing.

Tasha knelt down beside the dog. "You know I helped save your life, didn't you?" The mabari grunted and the noise could have been a yes or a no. "Did you imprint on me?" The dog barked once.

"I need an explanation, please. What is going on?"

"Mabaris choose their owner, they tightly bond with them. It's called imprinting," she tried to explain, a glance at Alistair. He stood looking down at his metal boots. She reached out for him, feeling his grief choke her. No help there. Tasha turned her attention back to Medb. "The bond usually goes one owner per mabari. He lost his owner and was sick from the darkspawn blood. The kennelmaster thought he might be able to be imprinted on me after the battle. How did he find me?" she asked, glanced back down at the happily panting dog. "I could have been dead for all he knew."

The dog grunted, this time clearly a no. "We don't have time to take care of some dog." Medb said.

"Then he'll just have to make himself useful then," she countered.

"And yet, we still have Alistair," Morrigan commented dryly.

"Hey!" Alistair protested, rousing out of his self-imposed emotional exile.

"What? The mutt has already proven itself to be a more capable protector than you."

He glowered at her.

"We're not doing this right now, you two," Tasha groaned, stepping between the two of them. "I would like to get to Lothering without one or both of you bleeding out. I might be able to heal but I'm not that good at it."

"'Tis acceptable." Morrigan turned her head, sniffing lightly.

Tasha waited until Alistair turned his attention back to his armor boots, choosing to take his silence as agreement, before she turned her attention back to the mabari. "You're going to need a name because I'm not just going to call you 'Dog'. What do you think about Chance?"

The dog cocked his head to the side.

"I think it fits. You got a second chance at life and we can use all the chances we get."

The mabari seemed to think about it and for a moment, Tasha wanted to laugh. The whole thing looked ridiculous. She was talking to a dog like it could understand her. Then, it barked, head tossing back, tongue lolling out, and nothing could have been more of an agreement if it had actually spoken.

A few hours later, they found themselves on the outskirts of Lothering, if a town of that size could have outskirts.

"We will have to be careful," Medb murmured. Tasha glanced at her, reading the worry in the elf's eyes. "These people will be frightened and we are neither familiar nor do we look like refugees," she explained, studying the town, then her gaze slid with a pointed glance at Tasha's revealing robes, if they could be called that. Tasha flushed.

"They're not my fault. Morrigan offered me these since my own robes were pretty much destroyed."

"I know. The fact remains that frightened humans often react badly. Not that my own people are better," she added, muscles in her jaw tightened. Her vision went slightly unfocused and whatever she was thinking about sent anger and grief prickling through her. "But we are an odd group. You must realize this. I may pull more attention simply because I am Dalish," at this she touched her vallaslin, "but the only one who won't draw attention is Alistair."

"Which is surprising enough," Morrigan interjected, eyeing him.

"We'll just have to be extra careful then. Have we decided- Hold on." Tasha cut herself off as glee caught her attention, head swinging in the direction it was coming from. A shiver wracked her body as she felt the glee slide down her spine. "What the-"

Chance began growling as a man swaggered into view. For once, Tasha really wished she didn't have empathy cursed to her. His thoughts were easily read on his face and his emotions, strong and sharp enough to cut through the extra shielding she'd acquired with the Joining, were making her ill, lust and greed starting to overpower the glee. She held her ground despite the memories assailing her. He would have been attractive if every fiber of her being wasn't warning her to flee. Flee or throw up, she wasn't sure.

"Well, well, well, what have we got here, lads?" The man gave a sharp whistle and more of them sprang out of their hidey holes. Their emotions were barely a whisper against her shields, especially compared to the leader.

Anger and such sharp hatred flared from Medb that it was a wonder how Tasha was still on her feet.

"We are in charge of repair. For that bridge up ahead, you see." He jabbed his thumb behind him and even Tasha could see the dilapidated bridge. "Ten silvers and you'll be free to go."

"Uh, Reg? They don't look much like refugees to me," one of the man's companions said. Medb stiffened, every muscle bowstring ready. Tasha laid a restraining hand on her arm.

"You're repairing the bridge?" she asked, fighting to keep her voice calm.

The man nodded, eyes only straying from her form once and that was to glance at Alistair. The bigger man had shifted closer to Tasha, hand going to the hilt of his sword. He was still grieving, still upset, but something in the situation had yanked him out of it a little. Tasha forced herself to focus against the emotions plucking at her. None of it was pleasant, particularly the strength of Medb's hatred threatening to pull her under. "And we require aid from humble travelers such as yourselves." The man, though bandit was almost certainly the better word for him, took two steps closer and licked his lips.

Tasha stared him in the eyes. Her heart thumped fiercely in her chest as she continued to fight the urge to flee. Then she shook her head. "We don't have that kind of money."

"Such a shame," the bandit leader said.

"Right. We get to ransack your corpse then. Those are the rules," the one who'd spoken up before said cheerfully.

"Oh, do shut up. Even a genlock would have understood that." The glance the leader gave him could have been construed as lazy but as he'd said, even a genlock would have seen the threat beneath it. Tasha tensed up, her right foot sliding back a little.

Before he could turn back around, Medb had leaped, unsheathing both daggers as she did. He turned in time for her to nimbly land on him, using her own weight to force him to the ground. A thin line of red appeared from where she carefully pressed one of the daggers into his throat, the other angled at a weak point in his armor at his side.

"Medb!" Tasha's jaw dropped in shock.

Without looking at Tasha, the Dalish elf snarled. "Bandits like him slaughter hundreds of my people! We are not letting these shems go!" Her rage pressed against Tasha's shielding, hot and choking. The mage took a moment to thicken her defenses but her mind raced.

If she couldn't figure out how to get her friend to back off, they'd have a blood bath on their hands and even if they were bandits, she didn't really feel comfortable killing people. Then an idea sprang to mind. "But what if we had them help?" she blurted out.

Medb paused, eyes still fixed on the bandit's. "What do you mean?" The words were forced through bared teeth.

Tasha addressed the bandits next, though she kept one eye on the very angry elf perched atop the leader and poised to kill. "We're armed and most bandits prefer easier targets, I thought. I don't blame you. Even though you might not get the biggest rewards, it's safer that way. That's why you've been preying on the refugees from the south." The other bandits glanced warily at each other. "What about this: we let you all live and you work for us."

"Why should we do that?" the leader asked. She held back the eye roll and pursed her lips to keep the smile off her face. He was trying so hard to sound tough but a blind mouse could have seen the fear. It was only more obvious when Medb's attention snapped back to him fully and his face paled beneath the dirt and tan.

Alistair was trying to decide if he should interject, even though he was pretty sure that anything he'd say would just make things worse. But he couldn't imagine that Tasha was any better at easing conflicts than he was, being stuck in the Circle like she'd been. Until she smiled and his blood ran cold.

"Because we're Grey Wardens and two of us are mages." She lifted a hand, palm up, fingers relaxed. A small ball of ice formed above her hand, slowly rotating. She cocked her head to the side, turning winter cold eyes on the bandits. "We will kill you. And then we will step over your dead corpses and let the darkspawn eat your flesh." She tipped her hand, letting the ball fall. It shattered upon hitting the stone road. Every bandit flinched at the sound. "Or would you rather help protect the refugees and get to live longer. It's your choice. Choose wisely." One of Medb's ears twitched.

There was silence, such a deep silence that not even the birds were chirping nor did the insects buzz. Tasha waited, steadily watching the bandit leader and feeling her heart beating so hard she worried that it would fly out of her chest and go running down the road.

"We will help," the leader finally said, nose wrinkling as though he'd just tasted something foul.

Tasha smiled, the ice leaving her eyes. "Wise decision. Medb, let him up."

Her lip curled but she did as instructed. One hand twitched, the dagger it held jerking toward the bandit but she refrained. As the bandit stood, he rubbed a hand against his throat. "And keep your pet bitch on a leash."

Tasha's jaw dropped open. "Excuse-" That was all she got out because Medb's rage built, hit the edge of her control, and exploded. The mage stumbled back, senses screaming. Her vision darkened briefly. Cold metal met her outstretched hand and kept her upright. She forced her shields to thicken against the assault. Medb spun around, graceful as a dancer, daggers gliding across his throat. Three fingers dropped to the ground, severed at the second knuckle. Blood sprayed her face.

"I am not a dog," she hissed, enunciating each word. She watched as he dropped to his knees, trying in vain to stop the bleeding. "I'm a person." The soft sounds of gurgling and gasping reached everyone's ears. Medb stood there and waited. Only when he was dead did her eyes lift and the rest of the bandits took an unconscious step back. "Who was second in command?" One of them hesitantly raised his hand, slowly stepping forward. His entire body was braced. "You're now the leader. Make better decisions than he did. What is your name?"

"Uh, Riley?" He swallowed, attempted to control the quaver in his voice.

Tasha was tempted to ask him if he was unsure what his name was but restrained herself, instead watching Medb. The elf stood in front of the new bandit leader and had she been taller, she would have been nose to nose with him. A pool of fluid formed at his feet, darkening the stone. Medb waited long enough that the man's panic began to eat through to Tasha before speaking. "I suggest you make better decisions than your predecessor because I would hate to be interrupted from my rather important mission to stop the darkspawn and come back here to deal with your band." Her eyes narrowed and Riley visibly had to fight the urge to cower. "I will not be so kind next time."

Riley watched her for just a moment, waiting to see if she was going to do anything else. When she turned her back, his fingers twitched in the direction of his sword. Tasha tensed, magic jumping to the surface. "Let's go, men."

"You're going to let the elf order us around?" One of the other bandits asked incredulously. Riley stared at him then shot a cautious look at Medb.

"If you want to tell her no, be my guest." He walked away, tensing when he exposed his back. Medb was the only one who did not watch the bandits leave but she must have known when they were a fair distance away because her muscles relaxed a little and she shook her head as if to clear it.

"I didn't kill them," she murmured distantly. Tasha winced at the sharp pang of guilt and toughened her shields again.

"Would you have?" Morrigan asked. "Because that was an interesting threat, one I would not have expected from you." She turned her tawny eyes on Tasha as she spoke.

"I should have," Medb said, eyes flashing. "I should have just killed them. They never show us mercy and-" She closed her eyes and made a noise akin to a growl that edged into a high-pitched whine. She shook her head, frustration winning out.

Tasha chewed on her lower lip, thinking, eyes on the elf. "I think so," she finally said, hating what she was saying but having the sinking suspicion that she wasn't wrong. "But Medb is right. We have a mission and we have to do whatever we need to defeat the darkspawn."

Morrigan's eyes were unreadable but she stepped back and let Tasha take the lead once more. When the former Circle mage looked back to make sure that Alistair was coming, the hesitation and wariness clear in his eyes made it hard to breathe suddenly. She flinched, ducking her head. She hoped it was more to do with her threat of violence than her display of magic, the reminder to the Templar he almost was of what kind of danger she was just by existing. Still, for just a moment, she wished she was back in the Tower.

* * *

 ** _AN_** ** _: Sorry for the delay, guys. Lost the notebook that has this written out and then my cousins came and life was chaos._**

 ** _Hopefully y'all like this. I like this chapter. Let me know, please and thank you. Le do thoil?_**

 ** _Also, I'm posting this on Thursday because I have more family coming into town tomorrow and we all know that I will 100% forget to update._**


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